Crossing Paths Again
by Belgio
Summary: Belgium finds Sealand sleeping the office lounge at 5am, she also finds a drunken Swede in his office.  I just introduced Dark!Spain so... rated M for language and violence.  Sorry for the change in ratings.
1. A Surprise at Work

Ok I own nothing... Not Hetalia nor a Car Comapany, I wish...

It's often said: **_If you love someone set them free... If they come back to you, it's meant to__ be..._**

Belgium stepped into the office building. It was 5am in the morning, a bit early for everyone to be coming to work. She took a deep sigh as she looked around for a moment. The empty lounge held an eerie vacant feel to the cool office air. Not even the greeting personnel had arrived yet. They wouldn't be for another hour.

The lights were on dim for the security guards and anyone working late. The black leather couches and tall various plants scattered about gave it a professional look. The Turkish, red and white carpet on the solid black, marble floor gave the large area a nice touch. The clean smell tickled her nose as she walked past a black leather couch, made for people to wait or take breaks on.

The clicking of her heels stirred a tiny groan from the side of the large, soft couch. She almost missed it but it was audible enough to catch her attention. The blond, female nation stopped in her tracks, thinking it might have been her imagination but was quickly surprised to see a small, frizzy haired nation sit up. "S..Sealand?..." The sleep child looked in her direction, rubbing his eyes.

She quickly put down her dark blue purse, her black briefcase, and her silver coffee mug on the large greeting desk and rushed over to him. "My goodness, why are you even here?" The young boy couldn't even form any words from his lips, he was so tired. His skin even looked a little pale. She shook her head as she rubbed his cool cheeks, trying to warm them up.

"Peter, please... wake up honey. I'll let you go back to sleep in a second but you have to tell me, where are your parents?" The woman had concern written all over her face but her voice remained soft. Bel knew Sweden and Finland were probably worried sick. She knelt in front of the boy, tucking her long black skirt under her knees as she combed her slender fingers through his disheveled hair.

"Mama..?" Sealand mumbled softly as he continued to rub his eyes and look disoriented. "No sweetie, it's me Belgium." Her gentle hand on his cool, slightly pale cheek, felt comforting to him. Sealand leaned into it as he started to doze off again. She delicately smiled. "Come on, let's get you warmed up."

Upon instinct, Sealand reached out and wrapped his small arms around her thin neck. Belgium leaned over and grabbed his little blue hat. He was rather light for a child his size. Bel thought she would have to start slipping goodies to him when his parents weren't looking. The thought made her chuckle as she collected her belongings.

Belgium took the elevators up to the 5th floor. Sealand started snoring lightly. The blond woman didn't mind, the warm, wet spot of drool that her dark blue, silk blouse was absorbing on her shoulder. She actually let out a soft chuckle. It reminded her of the days she used to carry Lovi around when he was little.


	2. Like a Mother

When they arrived to her office door, she quickly started swimming for her keys and unlocking her door with full hands. Like a pro, it didn't take her long. God only knows how many times she's already had to open doors, cook, and clean with a sleeping child in her arms. Belgium stroked Sealand's back as he wiggled and stirred. He quickly settled down and started snoring again.

The blond woman sighed as she thanked Netherlands quietly, it was his idea to put a brown, leather love seat in her medium sized office. It was small enough to fit only two average sized people, but big enough to act as a make shift bed for the small boy. Bel flicked on the light which caused Sealand to whine and shield his eyes into her shoulder. "Shh... It's only temporary", she cooed.

Bel quickly turned on her desk lamp and turned off the white glow of the over head office light. The small nation relaxed a moment before she laid him down on the cold leather of the love seat. He hissed and clutched his arms around her tighter. "No... It won't be cold for very long. You're a tough nation, you can handle it." His eyes never opened but he sat in an upright position, the position she put him. "That's right... I'm a nation...", he said sluggishly.

Belgium cupped her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh out loud and disturb the half sleeping, half listless boy. "I'll be right back sweetie, lay down and I'll get you a blanket." The boy flopped down on his side without saying another word and was already back to being asleep before Bel could even stand up again.

The woman went over to her file cabinets and knelt down. She was often plagued with her broer visiting and passing out in her office. Belgium pulled open the black cabinet drawer and found a black, yellow, and red afghan that she had knitted years ago. She quickly unfolded the wool blanket and laid it across the young nation.

Bel let out a deep sigh as she watched him momentarily. His little fingers curled around the blanket edge, his mouth slightly opened, his hair messy and draped in front of his face. She slowly bent over pushing back some of the gold tresses of hair. He didn't even stir to her affectionate touch. Her heart fluttered a moment.

Belgium started remembering the only two times she was truly ever really happy. When her independence was granted and when she was able to care for Lovi like a mother. It's rare for a nation to either mother or father a child so when a nation is born many take it upon themselves to act accordingly. Much like Sweden and Finland with Sealand.

Those beautiful memories of chasing after Lovi and watching over him, carrying him around, bathing him; all were so wonderful in her eyes. Her pink lips curled up in a smile. The sound of the ticking clock brought her back to reality. Lovi was all grown up, even moved out of Spain's house and she went her own way. Belgium knew that there was no way to turn back the clock, she had her moment and now it was Sweden's and Finland's turn.

The blond nation turned on her heels and walked to her purse and started swimming for her cell phone. To her annoyance, her fingers couldn't seem to find the tiny black object. With growing frustration she flipped her purse upside down, spilling its contents on her dark, oak desk. Bel realizing that she didn't have her phone with her, closed her eyes slowly and curled up her nose a little bit.

"How stupid of me", she mumbled softly and angrily at herself. Of all the days she had to forget her phone. She was so mad at herself she could have started spitting nails at that moment. Belgium took in a deep breath to calm herself. Sweden was on the same floor as her as she looked out the windows that made up her office wall, facing the hallway.

Belgium grabbed a yellow sticky pad and wrote, 'Sealand is in my office, come by as soon as you see this. Love Belgium' The female nation quietly stepped out her office through the dark wooden door. She could clearly see the child sleeping on her love seat which set her at some ease. It was only going to take a moment to go down to his office and leave a note on his door.

The woman quickly walked down the corridor. Offices of different nations were still dark and the dim light above gave the place a haunting look but that didn't seem to bother her. She actually enjoyed the solitude it offered. Unfortunately this particular morning she was on a mission to let Sealand's parents know where he was at.


	3. In a Pickle

When Bel turned the corner to head to Sweden's office she saw the door slightly open and a dim light glowing from the wide crack. Concerned and curious, she made no time reaching his office at the end of the long hallway. The female nation paused a moment and lightly rapped on the door as she pushed it open slowly.

She saw a white, sock covered foot peering at her. Followed by a dark blue and yellow stripped blanket covering a sleeping body followed by short, pale blond hair laid on top of a make shift pillow, that was his suit jacket. Her brows furrowed. It wasn't like Sweden to sleep at work. That's when the smell of booze hit her senses. It was so stout it almost knocked her over.

The sleeping man had drunk himself into a stupor and slept in his office but that didn't explain why Sealand was here. Either way she was in a pickle and had to choose. Wake a sleeping, giant, who was probably grumpy or wait it out and let him wake on his own. She thought it would be best to wake him.

If Tino saw him like this and knew his son had to sleep on the couch in the office lounge because his dad was to drunk to drive home. Then that would just cause further problems in the future. After all she was married to the man on the floor at one point in time and still had some respect for him left in her heart. Bel took in a deep jagged breath only to slightly cough due to the smell.

Her hand laid gently on his foot as she stroked the ball of it. The tall man shifted due to the massage. His groan was in protest as he rolled on his other side. "Sve, wake up." Bel's voice was soft and gently. Sweden's ears twitched and he begun to mumble in Swedish, which she still remembered some.

"Berwald, I don't care. You're getting up, I know it's early but you have to." His Swedish protests weren't working on her. For some reason she felt like she did back in the 14th century when they married. Bel had to admit she was a bit more frightened of the titan back then. "Why", he asked in Swedish; his voice hoarse from all the drinking. "Because, your son was found sleeping in the office lounge."

The mention of his son made him bolt upright but to quickly. He reached for his grey trash can and released any contents that he had in his stomach violently. Bel shook her head. The female nation just stepped behind him and knelt down, stroking his back softly. His shoulder blades buckled as he continued vomiting and sputtering. He rested his head on the rim of the waste basket.

"He's fine", she purred gently. The man kept his eyes shut tightly, trying to keep the room from spinning out of control. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. He wreaked of booze, vomit, and sweat. Sweden needed to go home and rest.

"Sealand only got slightly chilled, but he'll warm up soon. I keep my office a little warmer than most. I don't care to come to work to a chilly room." Her light tone of voice, soothed the Swede's worries but not his hang over. Berwald wished nothing more than someone to shoot him, still slightly intoxicated he started to form words on his lips.

"I'm s'rry B'lgium." Her dark green eyes looked him up and down carefully. She couldn't count how many times she's helped a nation out who got a little drunk. There was always Gilbert confusing her house with his, so she'd let him crash on her couch. Her brother who she rarely saw sober. Bel lost count years ago when Spain or France would hit on her while inebriated or Russia who was usually found in the alley way on her way home, who indulged in to much vodka.

"Don't be, I find people like this all the time. I doubt you'll be the last", she quickly tried to reassure him. He just swallowed hard and took deep breaths through his mouth, not daring to breath through the nose, scared of smelling his own contents and regurgitating everything back up again. "Nej, th't's not wh't..." Bel knew at that instant that he was still drunk.

"Are you done vomiting?" Her voice came out a little more tender than she expected. "Ja... Fer now." Sweden could barely speak. His throat burned and his mouth was dry. It tasted like copper as he smacked his lips together trying to get rid of the nasty taste. "Good, come on. I'll take you to my house, there you can get some proper sleep."


	4. His Shame

Sweden opened one eye slowly. Was he dreaming, he wondered. Sure enough he wasn't. Bel had gotten to her feet and offered a slender hand for him to take. He did with hesitation. She was like an angel to him, always has been. Never once has she ever turned him down, not even after everything she's been through.

He stood slowly, wobbling from side to side. The slightly taller male tried to find his legs. Bel had swiped his glasses off his desk and helped put them on him. She even helped him put on his shoes. Without a word, she led him out. Stopping by her office to collect her things and Sealand.

It hurt Berwald deeply when Bel picked up Sealand and carried him because he was still to intoxicated to carry his own son. Luckily Sealand was wrapped in her afghan to notice his papa looking as rough as he did. Sweden did manage to adjust his black tie and dark grey button up before she brought the sleeping boy out.

Sweden followed the woman as best as he could. Bel even had to stop the elevator doors from closing so he could stumble in. "Takk..." She could see the shame in his eyes. Bel didn't like the look he had. "Don't thank me", she tenderly whispered, offering a gentle smile.

The Swede flinched as if her smile bit him. He couldn't help but feel at a loss at the moment. The taller nation wondered how he ended up in this mess. He closed his dark blue eyes, feeling his stomach sink as the elevator dropped to the lounge. Sweden knew he was about to loose his battle with nausea as they got out the front doors.

Berwald found a bush that he could hide behind so Bel and his boy didn't have to see him but it didn't stop the sound. "Is papa ok", Sweden heard his son ask. Belgium quick to answer tenderly. "He's fine sweetie. He's just a little sick. I'm taking you both to my house. I live near by so you two can get some rest and some breakfast a little later."

Sweden wiped his mouth on his sleeve after spitting the little chunks that remained on his tongue. When Berwald stepped from behind the thick, green bush, he saw Bel rubbing his son's back. Sealand hand his arms wrapped around her neck tightly and his nose snuggled just under her chin.

The blond woman offered a comforting smile. Sweden nodded as they continued to her silver BMW.


	5. The Unexpected Return

Bel got them to her small, white home with pale green trim. It was a small cottage like house with a white picket fence. The grass was green and red and yellow tulips lined the edges of the cobble stone path that led up to pale green, wooden porch. The sky was growing a dangerously a lighter blue as the sun threatened to grace the world with it's presence.

The female nation scooped up Sealand from the car with grace. It amazed Sweden with how easy it was for her. Tino always fumbled with getting him out of the car, usually waking him with a light jostle here and there. Belgium turned towards the death, warmed over looking Swede.

"Are you ok? You can wait here if you like. I can..." He interrupted her with a raise of his hand. Belgium's whisper was soft enough to have him strain to hear her but he still made out what she said. His ears started to ring and his head begun to throb. Berwald was slowly sobering up as he winced, standing up.

The male nation closed the door behind him quietly for two reasons; one, not wanting to wake his son and two, his head wouldn't be able to take it. The fresh air finally offered Sweden some comfort. He no longer smelled the sweet, sickening scent of his vomit or his sweat. It was fresh, crisp, and cool. The spring morning was starting to give him momentary relief.

The small home was nice and cozy. It was only a two story house, modernized for today's needs but he could remember when it was a small log cabin. He used to terrorize it all the time. Sweden would have never thought he would be welcomed back into her home again. It wasn't like they were on bad terms, actually quite the opposite but there was still quite a bit of guilt on his part.

Through the centuries she was always there for him. When ever he'd drink to much or he'd have a fight with Finland, he used to run to her. Then the wars happened. He had to remain neutral and watch his friends and family go under siege. Berwald felt very guilty for not being able to help.

Since then they haven't spoke much so he felt slightly unwelcome. He let out a deep sigh as he watched her carry Sealand inside. Sweden wanted to take some time to breath in more of the fresh air as he quietly thought about the relationship he and Belgium had. She was probably the only person in the world that didn't fear him from the beginning, other than his son.

He could barely remember what her home looked like when he first came but he did remember how good it smelled. Not just the smell of the spring flowers like now, but the smell of the cooking rabbits her brother had caught for her. Berwald could remember exactly what they ate.

As Sweden's mind tried to travel back, he flinched and pushed his glasses further up his nose. He could trace back to that first day. She was a skinny young, little girl and he had just matured into a man then. Sweden chuckled as he could see the dirt covered, blond's face twist up with anger.

She demanded he fix her door or she wasn't going to give him any food. The young one only spoke her language but thankfully his boss made him learn hers at the time. He was in shock. People feared him everywhere but this little being stood there, making demands and not fearing him one little bit.

Once he put the door back and fixed it, she gave him rabbit stew. Ever since then he'd come by and rob the place, take what he needed, she'd just scold him refusing to look at him or talk to him. If one could believe it or not, it actually bothered him that she would give him the silent treatment, guilting him to give back some of what he took.

Berwald shook his head gently and rubbed his temples. He would often see her give what little she had left, to the local children being a child herself even. Then his boss told him one day that an old acquaintance of his was coming to visit. It was shortly after that in the 14th century that he had married to her.

Sweden hissed to himself. If he had been paying more attention to her or treated her better at the time, she probably would have never had left but she did. He blamed her for breaking his heart for the first time, but later he learned it was he who was the one that broke her heart. That was a painful memory that sent shivers of pain into his frontal lobe of his mind.

Fortunately through the years, she wrote and kept in touch. They would often visit each other. He wanted to slap the Spaniard who stole her away. Belgium's letters stopped for almost three centuries but her letters started appearing again. She prayed he was in good health and explained she was now under French rule. Belgium continued to explain all that she went through.

Sweden remembered that day very clearly. He was excited to hear from her again. He could stop smiling and from then on, they wrote to each other nonstop. Finland would often tell him to say hello, in turn she would send stuff for Finland and himself. They enjoyed each other's letters. Then the first war came, her letters suddenly stopped and he started to hear the atrocities being committed towards her.

Berwald bit his lower lip as he remembered worrying deeply for Belgium and his brothers; the man couldn't believe what was going on and why England took his time helping them. When they were liberated, Sweden was to busy with refugees to say hello to her or offer any help and when he did have time she was to busy trying to rebuild.


	6. His Abandonment

The Swede shook the painful memories and focused on getting to the white door that was half open for him. The tall man staggered in, Belgium helped catch him on her way out to retrieve him. He didn't realize how long he'd been out there. She had already put Sealand to bed and was going to check on him.

Berwald had bumped into her and started to stumble backward only to have gentle arms wrap around him to keep him from falling. For the first time in a long time, Sweden gasped out of surprise. His arms moved around her and tightened into a hug, leaving the small Belgian confused. "Uh... Berwald?"

He buried his nose into her shoulder, his hands clutched the back of her shirt. Belgium was in bewilderment but continued to rub his back. "It's ok... I promise." Her soothing voice was like that of an angel. Berwald couldn't help but to sniffle as tears threaten to spill and they did, like waterfalls.

The woman just stood there allowing Sweden to let it all out of his system. She didn't know really what was going on but she didn't need too; he was a friend that needed her help. Belgium cupped the back of his head and ran her nibble fingers through his hair. His sniffles turned into loud sobs as he clutched her to his chest, holding on to her for dear life.

He didn't even try to speak as he choked on his own cries. The large man fell to his knees and pulled Belgium down with him. The poor woman tried to maneuver where he wouldn't land on top of her so she ended up in his lap, her dark blue, silk blouse became heavily stained with tears. Sweden couldn't stop himself. He needed to let it all out.

Belgium continued to comb his hair with her fingers. It offered some relief to the large man. Her arms and warmth felt welcoming like they always did. Sweden enjoyed being in someone else's arms for once. Bel was a sweet and gentle person most of the time and for that he was thankful for.

The Swede stopped crying as he started to control his breathing. His back started to ache. Belgium sat in his lap quietly trying to soothe the larger nation. Her hand felt nice on his back, the gentle rubbing and patting, but his tired body at ease.

Sweden couldn't remember the last time someone tried to comfort him. He sure didn't expect it to be Bel. The last time they spent any happy time together was during their marriage in 1926 when his Dutchess Astrid Sofia Lovisa Thyra married Belgium's prince, Leopold the third. The happy marriage between the two was interrupted. Sweden had left in 1935 when his Astrid was killed in a car accident in Switzerland.

The last thing Sweden remembered was Belgium wearing a simple green dress, sending him off on his boat. There were tears in her eyes as she felt as if he was abandoning her. He did. Guilt nipped at him as he watched her silently cry in the distance. Unfortunately, his people needed him and he wasn't coming back. He and her both knew this.

The Swede didn't deny any of the accusations that previous night when Belgium broke down, seeing the ferry ticket he had secretly bought. The woman straightened up, her eyes never met his as she wished him a safe trip and left the room. It was that night he gashed open the back of his hand as he punched the bathroom mirror out. He saw himself lower then the Dane that particular evening.

She didn't come home at all that night. The next morning as he got on the ferry he saw her with tear stains on her cheeks and her eyes, puffy. The sight broke his heart. A part of him died, he had never abandoned anyone before but he did her. He felt so bad, it almost drove him insane.

Then their tragic meetings didn't stop there. World War II happened and Belgium was forced to give up to Germany. He and many others were busy trying to close their borders to the Germans but at the same time set up camps for the refugee Jews flooding in. He never heard from her nor Tino, he was waiting for someone, anyone, to send him a letter...


	7. Her Forgiveness

Six years and one day later, it was announced that the war was over and Germany was defeated. Sweden quickly went to the world meeting to see his brothers, to see Finland but also to see how Belgium was holding up after everything. When he got there he was surrounded by his brothers who were happy to see him.

Denmark was thinner and quieter, he just came over and shook the Swede's hand, smiled and walked away. Norway did the same, but with a gentle pat on the shoulder. Norway looked in better shape then Mathias for once. Finland had dropped so much weight from the war between the Germans and the Russians. He came over and hugged the Swede for what seemed like forever.

Then moments later, Belgium walked in. She was a skeleton. The woman never got to recover from the first war and she had to endure a second. Ukraine and her nodded to each other. The women had a simple understanding what it was like to be a woman in war and they had developed a bond under the rule of the German house. Both looked frail and malnourished but Russia wrapped his strong arm around his sister and walked away with her.

Belgium had no one, not even her own brother. Sweden took note that she never once looked in his direction. He had to admit, he didn't even know what he would have done if she did. Her eyes were sunken in and her arms were so thin. She was a bag of bones with skin.

Bel looked so tired and warn out. The woman left the room of nations and not a single person stopped to wonder where she went. Like a ghost, he watched her fade behind the closing doors. His heart sunk further and never really recovered after that.

Sweden knew he always treated her so unfairly. He was rather disgusted with himself but there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe that's what kept her going after all these years. He didn't know. Berwald did admit he waited for her to ask him for help. Him being neutral, he couldn't offer her any. He would have jumped at the chance, but she didn't. The woman was hurt by so many, her pride wouldn't allow her too.

Years passed and they never spoke. No letters though he waited patiently. He had wrote her but his letters were sent back many times. Some weren't, he knew she had to have read a few. It disturbed him a little, he knew why she ignored him for so long.

Then one day, he received a letter from her. It was her apology for not writing for so such a long time and for being unfriendly. Sweden's body shook with excitement when he received that letter and as if nothing happened they started writing again, what seemed like books to each other. Then as the years progressed he'd send a letter or two and she'd do the same...


	8. She Never Changes

Sweden took in a deep breath. Berwald held her tighter. "I'm s'rry", was all he could muster at the moment. Belgium continued to rub his back slowly. She knew what he was apologizing for. Bel knew him well. It was often said there were only two people that could really understand him, and that was Denmark and her. Tino even over 800 years had difficulty, still.

"It's alright. I'm used to it by now." Her affectionate whisper held no comfort for the giant. To be honest he knew she had every right to be bitter with him and yet once again in over 70 years he was right back in her arms, needing someone to be there and she did so without any questions. It was never in her nature to turn anyone down.

The man took in one last deep breath. His dark blue eyes looked the blond woman over as she offered a gentle smile. Her navy blue, blouse was soaked on the left shoulder. The moist fabric didn't seem to bother her as she cupped his face. "Are you going to be alright?" Her dark green orbs offered kindness he knew he could never payback in a million years.

"Ja." Sweden didn't want to talk to much. His mouth felt sticky with heat and moisture. "Let's get you some coffee." Her benign whispers made him feel even worse. His stomach pulled and his chest grew tight. He needed someone more than ever. Berwald's guilt was building ever more.

Sweden knew he was just using her for some comfort and someone to talk to. The man held a deep love for her but unlike Tino, he just didn't know how to show it. Berwlad would just end up pushing her away like he always did. She was a woman and he was never good with those.

"B'lgium..." Bel put a delicate finger on his lips. "I said it's ok Berwald", her voice remained soft. Sweden couldn't bare it. He let himself go as he pushed back the guilt. The nation blinked a few times as he let her up. His mind clamped down on his feelings, trying to keep the whole situation, just friendly.

The woman stood and straightened her black, slender skirt. Sweden caught a glimpse of her ample cleavage as he bent down to smooth out the wrinkles. He cleared his throat as he slowly stood. The world was rocking back and forth under his feet. Belgium offered a steady hand under his elbow and helped guide him into the kitchen.

His eyes glanced around. Her kitchen was full of earthly tones. The walls were painted a dark brown with a light, cream like tanned colored accent wall. Dark green counter tops and a dark wooden floor. It wasn't as nice as his, but it was cozy, modern with black appliances. Her cabinets were a dark chestnut, very stylish for a kitchen.

The smell of coffee soon filled the room as he didn't notice her leave his side and open the bag of grounds, pouring them into the filter. Light threatened to pierce the dim kitchen. Berwald read the clock on the stove, it said 7am. He had been kneeling on her floor for almost an hour and a half.

The man couldn't believe it. Belgium didn't once complain being in his lap for so long. It would explain why his knees were sore though. "Alright, coffee's on. I'll be right back. I'm going to change. If you need anything, you know where everything is at. Help yourself." She turned on her heels and looked Sweden with a bright smile and joy in her eyes.

This made the Swede frown. He knew it was all false. It was hard on her as much as it was hard on him. Bel quickly forgets that she's not the only one that can read people. Sweden nodded as he lowered himself into the wooden chair at the kitchen table.

The windows that surrounded him became brighter and brighter. The curtains made of a see through, sheer material, offered no defense against the bright, rising sun. The white and yellow light burned his eyes. His mind screamed in agony. Berwald cupped his head in his hands as he propped up on his elbows.

The coffee pot shortly beeped as he stood slowly and made his way over to the device. He knew where she kept all the cups as he opened the cabinet above the coffee pot. Sweden had to give a quirk of a smile. She never changes. He pulled down two white, porcelain cups and flipped them right side up.

Berwald made a mental note that the cabinet door, wouldn't close unless you lifted the end up slightly. He let out a sigh. The one thing that never changed about her. She often put off house repairs until it was absolutely needed. The woman was horrible about it. Bel was always busy with other things.


	9. 70 Years Later

Belgium walked back in the kitchen in a red tank top and blue jean shorts that were cut a little high. Berwald almost coughed up his coffee he was sipping on. She had a beautiful body and living with France for some time, Bel wasn't shy either. Sweden felt his cheeks grow warm.

His eyes started to trace up her legs as he felt a jerk in his head. The Swede reminded himself not do it. He was to keep it friendly. Just friendly, he told himself over and over again. "Why 're you dr'ssed l'ked that?" His voice was hoarse. Berwald scolded himself after asking that question as she raised an eyebrow in an 'oh really' fashion.

"Uh, you do realize it's the 21st century and this is how I normally dress when I do some gardening." Bel stood there crossing her arms, covering up the beautiful view, he found himself staring at. Her voice was still soft, not wanting to wake a young boy who was sleeping in her bed.

Sweden turned as pink as a rose bud. "S'rry." Bel smiled again and yawned. She walked over to grab the cup he had pulled down. Berwald senses must be clearing, he could smell her sweet, perfume for the first time this morning.

She stood close enough to bump him with her elbow. Her emerald green eyes lit up as she glanced at him and apologized quietly. Sweden's mind jolted back again. A happy memory surfaced allowing him to smile back as he readjusted his stance and leaned on the counter top. He sipped his cup and watched her in silence.

When they were married in the late twenties, she used to get up and fix his coffee and make his breakfast. He used to stand in the spot he was standing in now and watched her make his lunch for work. Unlike Tino, she didn't mind him being so close.

Bel was strange that way, she preferred his closeness. That always made him feel a bit uncomfortable. Berwald never got used to it. Belgium was always reaching for him, holding him, cuddling him. It puzzled him to no end. The woman was an enigma and he always felt uncomfortable because he could never figure out why she was the way she was.

Bel had a way of making him feel at ease. No matter how bad the day was, she always managed to wear a smile. That's the main reason her tears killed him inside. Sweden frowned, remembering all the times he had made her cry. God, he was a despicable man. Sweden thought quietly to himself.

Berwald closed his eyes and began to tremble. He felt a soft, cool hand lay on the back of his hand, holding the coffee mug. "Are you alright Berwald?" He wanted to nod and tell her yes, but he knew better than to lie to her. The Swede remained quite for a moment.

"Tell me why Sealand was in the lounge all night." Bel's eyes narrowed and darkened. She knew he didn't want to talk about what was bothering him from his body language. His eyes gave it away. The deep blue orbs never looked at her. They stayed in the direction of the floor and his shoulders slumped forward.

Sweden was relieved she asked something else other then what she really wanted to ask. "It seems th't T'no ferg't to p'ck P'ter up after w'rk aga'n", Bel had to strain to understand Sweden. His voice was hoarse from heavy drinking. "I d'dn't know." Belgium could see the guilt written on his face.

"B'lgium wh't if he saw me?" She could see the man was physically distraught over the thought. The woman didn't know what to say; she had no words for comfort. "Well see. No need to get worked up over something that may or may not have happened." Sweden nodded. She was right. He would just have to wait.

Berwald was done with his cup of coffee as he looked down. He wanted another cup but wanted to avoid the jitters. "Go take a shower Sweden. No offense but you smell like week old garbage." Her voice was as clear as a bell. The female nation didn't stumble nor skip a beat as begun to pull out a skillet to make breakfast.

He chuckled. Bel was as blunt as ever. "I set out some clean towels for you and pulled out my brother's soaps for you to clean yourself. I even set out a new razor of his because I know how you like to fuss over your stubble if you don't get to shave it." She continued to speak with her back to him.

It's been over 70 years and she still remembered as he brushed his chin with the back of his hand. "When you hit the sack, I'll take your cloths and wash them. That way, taking a shower won't be a waste of time." The Swede was once again speechless. "I set out my brother's robe that he leaves here when he stays. You can use that until you decide to go to sleep. It'll be a little short by not much."

He treated her so wrongly over the years and yet she proved herself to be a caring wife that he has always wanted, time and time again. Berwald could understand why he felt drawn to her like a bee to honey but that draw was what scared him to death and he couldn't understand why. The fear sent shivers down his spine. Sweden swallowed hard.

The man continued to wrestle with the feelings inside of him. He didn't want to just use Bel for her friendship and run. He was a professional at using and hurting her emotionally. No, he wanted this time to be different. After all she was his ex-wife, in a good way he guessed.

Berwald chased away the deep sentimental feelings. No! He shouldn't! The Swede started scolding himself. He would just abandon her again like he always did. What if Tino wanted to come back? Would he be able to tell the man he also deeply loved, no?

Berwald hated himself for this very reason. He really did love Belgium, whether or not she still loved him after all he put her through and never once offered a helping hand to her, he doubted it. Sweden prayed she would hate him, it would make things a little easier but she didn't, he knew it. It wasn't in her nature.

His mind continued to travel off as he watched her briefly before pushing himself off the counter and heading to the shower. "Tack." A small smile formed on her lips as she begun to crack eggs. "Your welcome." The man paused to hear her sweet voice fall from her lips before continuing.


	10. His Cross to Bare

Sweden came to her bathroom. It was small like always. The room was big enough to move around in but no room to do much else. He saw the white towels folded neatly on the small cream colored, granite counter top as he stared blankly at it a moment. Her brother's men's body wash and a deep blue wash cloth folded neatly next to the dark brown bottle, was set next to it.

He continued to look around. She wasn't one for decorating. The cream and white colors looked nice but the walls were barren. There was a metal rack that held toilet paper above the white porcelain toilet and he bet the towels were placed in the dark wooden cabinets under the granite counter top.

Berwald did have to admit he was a bit curious to see how she was doing on her home repairs. He knew she never took his advice and ran her sinks during the Winter. With Spring was thawing the ground, he had a small hunch. The Swede opened the cabinet doors that led under the sink. Sure enough he could see condensation building on the plastic, white pipes.

"Bel", he groaned loudly. He pushed the cleaning supplies aside. Sure enough he could see the joints begin to buckle. Sweden stood up and sighed deeply. She never changes. He wondered what else needed to be fixed around the house. The man closed the cabinet doors and started to undress.

He took off his black tie and dark grey dress shirt. Before Sweden took off his glasses, he caught a glimpse of his cross around his neck. Berwald reached up and slowly touched it, as if it was going to bite him. He winced as the pads of his fingers brushed it.

He never took it off. Not even once since Belgium gave the thin, silver cross and chain to him. His deep blue eyes fell to the white tiles. When his beloved Duchess Astrid married Belgium's prince, Belgium gave him the simple, silver cross. She wanted him to know she would always be with him no matter what.

Sweden felt heat rise to his cheeks and his eyes begin to water. A heavy, painful lump developed in his throat as her words played back in his head. "I want you to have this." She whispered. "The last time we were together you gave me this ring as a reminder of our marriage." Belgium had gently run her fingers over the thick gold ring that was his king's crest.

He remembered how nice she looked in her deep, emerald green gown she wore to the wedding. It was a bit tight fitting around the waist but flowed down nicely to the floor. Her gold hair was pinned up in tight curls and little white flowers placed neatly to form a halo.

While the humans were up front and all eyes on the ceremony, Belgium and he stayed in the back. His heart filled with hope that this time would work out. Berwald's eyes followed the thin gold chain around her neck with his old king's insignia ring nestle above her bosom.

"I don't expect you to become a catholic or anything like that, I just want you to wear it as a reminder that I'm always there." She slipped the tiny chain in his hand and graced him with a beautiful smile. The chain felt warm from her touch. He put it on without hesitation.

He was so happy at that moment. Sweden wrapped his strong, warm arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. He kissed her head softly, taking in her sweet, lavender scent. The man felt her arm wrap around the back of his waist as she only came to his chest. Most people called it a match in heaven. Her people loved him and accepted him.

Berwald choked back the tears filling his eyes. Sweet memories like that killed him inside especially when they pertained to Belgium. His mind reached further back against his own will. He tried desperately not remember any further but images formed anyways.

During their marriage during 1335 she was there tending to him. He was recovering from illness and she was at his bedside every day. Her smile made the Swede feel much better. He could recall way her eyes lit up to see him amongst his people on good days.

When he was well enough, he was forced to leave her. It was under orders of Denmark. Sweden didn't want to get her involved with the Dane or any of the others so he left her standing confused in the dining hall, softly sobbing. He had finished telling her he was leaving.

No goodbyes, no hugs, no kisses. Just a gentle pat on the shoulder. He knew if he made it sentimental, he wouldn't have been able to leave in the stoic manner that he did with his men watching. Besides, she was his wife. She would be there when he got back.

Sweden took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had been such a fool. If had only been more sympathetic towards her, she would have never left. Hell, she probably would have kept Denmark under control with her soft and gentle ways. His child like antics that usually got someone hurt would have been squashed quickly. Bel wouldn't have put up with it.

His mind snapped back to his original thoughts. Those few years that went by he looked forward to holding her slender body. Feel her hands across his back as he pinned her under him and had his way with her. He secretly yearned for her every night he spent alone.

In those years, he never once forgot how good she smelled or the texture of her golden hair. When he returned a few years later, he was in high spirits that she would be there for him to hold and kiss her wildly but she was wasn't, she was gone.

He felt the wave of sadness crush his heart for the first time. The man's cry out was so loud it frightened everyone in the castle. It was at that moment he thought he was going to die as the pain surged through his chest, he collapsed to his knees. His Belgium was gone, the only person in his life who understood him, had disappeared. His angel had abandoned him.

Sweden ran his calloused hands over his face to bring him back to the modern day. He finished unbuckling his pants and slipping the rest of his cloths off to take his shower. Berwald started the water up. The low rumble before the water came forced him to close his eyes. "Bel", he groaned again.

He let out a soft chuckle. Sweden could feel his heart begin to unwind and little prickles of fondness started sting his heart. "Und I th'ught I c'uld keep th's jus' fr'endly." The large, muscular man took in a jagged breath and bit his lower lip. He leaned forward under the wall of water, smothering himself in heat and moisture.

Sweden was beaten, he knew it. There was no way he was going to get out of this as just friends. A small smile formed on his thin lips as hot water ran down his scarred back. Like he told himself years ago, before, maybe this time would work out. Unlike the last time, he had determination. Everyone knows a viking with little determination never loses.


	11. I'm Going to be Short!

**_I apologize if this isn't the quality you're used to... Was writting the last 4 chapters with chaos in the house... I really apologize again, the next chapters witll be better :) _**

Sweden smiled when he came out of the shower. He felt refreshed and alive. His head was still foggy with memories and the alcohol leaving his system. Berwald's stomach was starting to gnaw at him. He was a little hungry.

The Swede dried himself off. The thick, white towel on his skin felt good. It was soft and dry, wiping away any moisture trapped in his ears, drying them vigorously. The one thing that really annoyed him other then a stupid Dane was water in his ears. Sweden could tolerate a lot of things but that wasn't one of them.

Berwald noticed a dark maroon colored, robe hanging on the back of the white bathroom door. It was probably her brother's, the one she had made mention earlier about. The shoulders were to wide for it to be hers. He reached for it and put it on. The garment fit him in the shoulders but it was a little short. The robe reached only to his knees. He sighed as he tied the terry cloth belt around his waist.

Berwarld slipped his glasses back on and folded his cloths in a neat pile on the toilet seat. He knew she'd get to them as soon as she was done with cooking breakfast. Sweden paused a moment when he heard the sound of his son giggling.

He felt his heart stop. Sweden took in a deep breath. What if his son really did see him last night? Why didn't he let him know Finland hadn't picked him up? Berwald exhaled. He realized he had been holding it in, fearful of what his son might have saw and or heard.

The Swede opened the door. Sunlight beamed through the short hall way. It was a white, blinding light for a moment. The sun piercing through the open rooms, reflected off the beautiful wooden floor. The smell of breakfast mixed with the warm glow, and the sound of laughter filled Sweden with something he hadn't felt in ages.

Berwald's heart fluttered briefly as he swallowed hard. His bare feet stepped on the cool wooden floor as it was slowly warming by the sun coming through the open doors and windows. He was unsure if he should go into the kitchen or not. He paused.

As Sweden peeked around the corner of the kitchen entry, he saw Peter sitting at the wooden kitchen table. His smile was bright and a soft glow of warm light mixed with his laughter. To see his son so carefree allowed Sweden to breath a little easier. He exhaled slowly.

Berwald could hear Belgium talking about how she used to look after South Italy. She was explaining there wasn't much of a difference between the two of them when they were the same age. They were even the same height, she explained. "Man... That sucks, then I'm going to be short!" Bel let out a chortle. "I doubt that. I think you'll grow as tall as your father", trying to reassure the boy.

"Did he really say all those kind of nasty things too?" Sealand was listening intently to all the stories Belgium was telling him. "Oui, he did but that doesn't mean you can." A smile crept on Berwald's lips. "Aww, that's not fair!" Bel continued to chuckle only pausing long enough to sip her coffee. Her sweet voice was heart warming. "Now finish your breakfast then take a shower. It sounds like your papa is already done with his."


	12. Swallow the Bitterness

"Right!" The young boy started in on his scrambled eggs and fried ham. Sweden took that as his cue to come in. "Gud m'rning P'ter." The boy looked over and smiled, chewing on his food. Once he was done swallowing, "morning papa!" Peter wasn't usually a morning person but anyone would be in a good mood after having a little of Belgium's cooking.

Belgium smiled, peeking over her white coffee mug as she held it to her lips. Her dark green eyes followed the tall, muscular Swede. Bel was sitting across from Peter. The golden blond woman stood up as Berwald walked over to small square table. "H'w's yer m'rning?" "Good!"

Berwald sat down slowly fighting any reaction of pain to his son's bubbly personality, as his head began to throb even more. Sweden watched his Sealand quickly gobble up his food, cleaning his plate. He wasn't to surprised to see Peter inhale everything and then ask for more. Belgium smiled and just simply took the boy's plate, placing scrambled eggs, toast, and ham in front of the Swede.

Shortly after, Bel place another plate in front of Peter with a warm smile and a gleam in her eye. "Thank you", Sealand chimed in. The woman nodded and gave Berwald a gentle smile. To Sweden's surprise, Bel set a glass of orange juice next to him and a little white pill on the side. "For your migraine", she spoke tenderly when he glanced at her curiously.

Berwald blinked and nodded. "Papa, can I ask you something?" The Swede swallowed the pill before answering. Belgium took her seat again and watched him shift nervously. Sweden nodded to Peter. "Uncle Den, said you were to sick to leave your office last night. He left really late too, Denmark wanted to take me home, but he said you'd probably be upset. Why?"

Belgium quickly answered for the Swede who was lost in his own thoughts. "Because, he wouldn't have known where you were when he started feeling better, sweetie." Bel looked at Berwald with a worried look but quickly changed it, not wanting to let Peter know she afraid of Sweden's reaction over the situation and with a hangover on top of all things. The Belgian watched the Swede with slight smile. The Swede nodded avoiding looking at Peter or Belgium.

To hear that man's name made Sweden's skin crawl. Berwald was now disgusted with himself. He had a son to care for. How could he have just assumed that Tino was going to just pick him up? Sweden's mind twisted. All the happiness and joy he felt earlier was slowly leaving. Anger was creeping in.

The Swede's grip tightened around the clear drinking glass, filled with the orange liquid. Peter oblivious to his father's reaction. "So... he stayed with me until I think, three this morning. He carried me down to the lobby so you wouldn't miss me on your way out." How dare that Dane take care of his boy!

Sweden's chest tightened. He was at a loss. The only one to blame was himself for this whole mess. Berwald knew that Danmark was right. He was in no shape to care for Peter, and if he had heard that idiot had taken his Sealand, things would have gotten ugly. He felt as if this was all a bad dream.

Sweden knew he wanted to scream and just lose it, but not in front of Peter nor Belgium. The old viking bottled it up and swallowed the bitterness called anger. His watery blue eyes darkened. He stared blankly at the glass in his hand.

A soft comforting hand caressed the back of his knuckles. Her fingertips brushed his hand lightly. Belgium's touch was light and feminine; the way her thumb ran across his tight knuckles caused him to shift and lightly blush.

Upon instinct he let go of the glass. His hand ached from holding a tight grip for so long. "Th't's gud P'ter. I'm h'ppy yer uncle h'lped out." The man nearly choked on his own words. An awkward silence fell on the room. Peter's face started to turn up curiously and about to ask what was wrong but Bel was quicker.

"Peter, time for a shower unless you're still hungry." "Nope I'm full", Sealand reassured her. "Thank you", his voice chimed in again. "It was very good. I wish mama could cook like that. He's ok, but yours is better!" Bel ushered the talking child out of the kitchen, smiling and listening to his complements. "Well, merci Sealand. You can come over when ever you wish and eat as much as you like." The two were laughing down the hall by now. Sweden let out a jagged breath. What a morning, he thought to himself.


	13. A Gentle Touch

Sweden didn't feel like eating anything now. A knot had developed deep in his core. Danmark tended of his son. Of all the people in the world, it had to be him. Not only was it completely embarrassing for that man to watch over Peter but now he owed that idiot one.

God, how stupid of him to think everything would go smoothly. He tried to figure out where he went wrong. Peter went down stairs into the office lounge because Sweden had a meeting with his boss, so the boy would have to wait for Finland. Berwald even went down to the lobby to make sure Sealand was gone.

Sweden even tried calling Tino but as usual Finland didn't pick up, so he looked in the bathrooms down in the waiting room. No signs of the boy, he assumed that his ex-wife had picked him up. When Sweden got back to his office he finished up his paperwork. He watched everyone leave.

His heart sank. It was Tino's turn to have Peter so he had no one to go home to. Berwald figured a few drinks to lift his spirits wouldn't hurt anything. Hell, his temporary housing unit was in walking distance and this was Brussels, he'd be safe. Sweden indulged himself in a bottle of vodka that he had stored away for times like these.

Before Sweden knew he was done with half the bottle. The world was spinning and the usually happy drunk wasn't so happy. He missed having someone around all the time. The be honest, he was as bad as the Dane when it came to being lonely. He hated the silence, the stillness in the air when he came home. Berwald remembered crying a lot of tears that night as he finished the entire bottle.

The Swede planted his face into his palm. His shoulders slumped forward. He heard Belgium come in but didn't expect her to run her hands over his shoulders slowly. Sweden flinched as her touch startled him. Bel could feel his shoulders relax under her physical contact. Her hairs tickled the back of his neck and her breath caressed his ear as she whispered into his ear.

"Don't worry. I have everything handled. The Dane, as you like to call him, and I spoke while you were in the shower." Sweden blinked and listened to her soothing voice. Goose pimples developed on the back of his neck as she stayed nestled next to his lobe.

"I told him, thank you for his help and I'll be sending him some extra chocolates. I also told him, you were sleeping so you couldn't yell at him for watching over Peter. Mathias laughed it off though I know it hurts him deeply. He knows you'll never say thank you nor forgive him for all that he's done to you and the others."

Sweden leaned into her direction and reached up placing his rough hand on top of hers that was resting on his shoulder. He thumbed the it as he grabbed her delicate fingers and pulled the whole hand to his chest. The warmth of his strong hand tugged at Bel's feelings.

She enjoyed it but didn't want to allow herself to get her hopes up. He was just a friend. Berwald could feel her tense. It reminded Sweden this arrangement was tough on her. She didn't want to let her guard down and get burned again.

Berwald couldn't blame her but continued to hold her hand. He didn't want to let go of the close contact that they were sharing. Both swallowed hard. "Tack", his voice was hoarse again. Bel assumed it was from his drinking but Sweden knew it was from feelings stirring deep inside of him, choking him because he was slowly drowning in them. He needed her to pull him up but will she, was the question.

Bel slowly stood. Her heart started racing. She hated this feeling of wanting to get close. Belgium knew he was just needing a friend at the moment and he wasn't looking for any type of relationship. The man had his son to worry about. That's all he needed, right? She kept asking herself that last question over and over again in her head.

Sweden felt like eating again. Bel must have known, as they both released each other at the same time. She quietly took his plate. "I'll reheat this for you." He nodded again. His feelings were put at ease.

A shared silence came between the two. Sweden looked out the window as beautiful greens, yellows, reds, graced by the sky's sun. A small smile curled up. He felt at peace, at least a little at the moment. Berwald blinked. Children were starting to fill the streets, playing and talking. A few of them started to kick a soccer ball back and forth.


	14. An Old Man

Once Bel was done, she placed the plate in front of him with a refill on his orange juice. "Tack, ag'in." "You're welcome. Now eat, I don't want a starving gammal människa on my hands." Berwald laughed. "You me'n gammal man." Belgium blinked. "Yer Sw'dish needs w'rk." Bel stuck out her tongue. "What ever, an old man is an old man, no matter how you say it."

Sweden could have just kissed her at that moment if it wasn't for her hesitation towards him. He felt enlightened to have such a light hearted conversation. It had been years since another adult had smiled at him or joked with him in such a manner. It reminded him of who Belgium was as a person. Berwald watched her dark green eyes playfully smile at him.

His eyes smiled back, Bel thought. Sweden's dark eyes were a few shades lighter in color. She was pleased to see him eating. The migraine medicine was probably kicking in allowing him to think clearly and with the help of the food, plus a little sleep..., he'd be back to normal in a few hours, she thought.

There wasn't anything in this world she wouldn't do for the man sitting next to her. Her eyes settled gingerly on him. Some how he always managed to make her smile. It was one of the few things she missed about him.

Their good byes were never easy, but when they did spend quality time, he always was able to bring up the warm fuzzy feeling. Bel had been deeply desiring that feeling for years now.

Bel swallowed hard, she reminded herself he was just a friend and that's all he wanted. It stung deep in her chest. She would like nothing more then the kiss those lips of his and chase his worries away. Belgium choked down the lump in her throat.

Berwald caught a glimpse of her trembling briefly as her eyes darted out the window. A smile formed on her pink lips. He really didn't know what to think. He was tired. "Bel, I'm go'n to b'd." His voice was gruff and barely audible. Belgium nodded. "You know where the bed is. Please take mine. I know you can't sleep on a soft mattress."

He chuckled. "You st'll r'member..." She nodded back to him. Her dark green orbs followed him. "I remember a lot of things." Her smile seemed normal but her eyes had a touch of sadness to them. Sweden right then wanted to tell her he was sorry; sorry for everything but didn't know how to say it. Words couldn't soothe the pain he put her through.

Instead Berwald got up and leaned over her. Kissing the surprised Belgium on the cheek. His hand held her other cheek softly. "Godnatt", Sweden whispered into her ear tenderly. Pulling back slowly, her eyes met his briefly. He tried to smile warmly at her. She chuckled. "Get some sleep. I'll have..." He put a finger on her lips. "I kn'w."

At that he left the kitchen leaving a bewildered Belgium. Did he just...? Her mind couldn't finish the sentence as her heart did little flutters in her chest. Bel couldn't wipe off the smile that formed on her lips as she clasped her hand over her mouth, giggling. She knew the answer. "Oh, Berwald..."

Her soft voice was heard by him as he paused just out the entry way. He wanted to hear her reaction. The Swede needed to know if he had any chance to getting back with his wife, since they technically never divorced.

She was the only one who would accept him as he is now. If she would let him, he wanted to reveal to her how much he still adored her. To be honest Berwald never stopped loving her but in order to display his feelings, he needed to know where he stood with the woman. From her girlish giggles, he'd say his chances were good...


	15. A Morning's Surprise

Berwald's dark blue, watery eyes fluttered open. He was laying on his side. Sweden heard birds chirping outside her open bedroom window. Bel must have come in and opened it when he was sleeping. He always did appreciate fresh air as he slept.

The Swede took in his surroundings now that his mind was clear and rested. It was still a simple room. A dark round topped night stand sat next to the bed. It was placed on his side. On it, was a thin brass reading lamp and a black leather book laying next to it. It looked like her journal, he thought. He spotted a blue ball, ink pin nestled between the pages.

Sweden reached for the journal and quickly scolded himself. He didn't need to be nosey. Berwald sat up and noticed the dark walnut, dresser and chest, he had made for her years ago. The male nation held his breath for a moment. He was stunned. Words couldn't describe the joy that filled him.

Tino had gotten rid of most of his stuff he made for him, claiming it held to many painful memories. Belgium on the other hand, to Sweden's surprise, still had hers and in good condition too. It looked as if she took special care of them. He could have sworn the woman would have definitely thrown them out.

Berwald pushed back the white sheets and the cotton, sun yellow comforter. He quickly got out of bed to inspect the furniture. The wooden clothing chest had a few bangs in the corners but was still in great condition. He could tell she waxed it on a regular basis.

The old, dark walnut was beautiful. She loved flowers and animals so he had carved vines of ivy on the corners and left brass studs as a border around the edges. Little bunnies were peeking out from behind some of the leaves as if they were playing peek-a-boo. The rest of the surface was smooth. She wanted it simple, when he asked her how she would have liked it decorated.

Sweden crouched in front of the large chest and lifted the heavy lid with ease. Blankets, quilts, and afghans, all hand made in one form or another folded nicely inside. The bright colors mixed well together. He noticed the dark blue, velvet lining still in good condition as he ran his fingers over the material with his left hand.

"Bel, I'm s'rry." He didn't know how many times he was going to say those words as he slowly closed the lid. Guilt swept over him quickly. The male nation wondered how much longer was he going to feel guilty for his sins. He has tried in the past to make it up to her. Berwald treated her like a child treats a toy. When it's new, the child plays with it and seems never to set it down but after a while, the child forgets all about it.

Bel has seemed not to have forgotten anything about him and yet he has. That bothered him deeply. He desperately tried to even remember what her favorite color was and his mind drew a blank. Sweden can still recall what she was like but not the particulars. Not like her at least.

Berwald brushed his chin. He forgot to shave earlier. Sweden scolded himself once again as he continued to inspect the wood in hopes that something would spark his memory. To his dismay, nothing came to mind. He figure he'd let it rest a moment and relax his mind. For some reason his mind traveled back to the day he left her standing at the port in Brussels...


	16. A New Experience

He hadn't just moved in with her for more than nine months, when the Swede was forced to go back to his homeland for personal matters. It irritated the man but couldn't say no to his orders. Just when things were going smoothly he was told his boss needed him, but was assured that it was only going to be a brief visit.

He had to soothe the worried woman. Belgium never came out and spoke about her fear of him leaving again but he could read it all over her face. Her green orbs never met up with his during that week he had to get ready.

She had stopped trying to start of a conversation as days went by. Even with the woman being so quiet; she still smiled and hugged him gently, not wanting to show him how much it bothered her. Berwald was afraid she was going worry herself sick during that entire week he was packing.

The day he left he had to chuckle. Sweden held her close. Her tiny body was trembling with fear. "D'nt w'rry, I'm com'n b'ck." "I'm scared Berwald. What if...?" "I pr'mise, I w'll be b'ck my de'r", he said reassuringly to the pale woman. He even kissed the top of her head, trying to stifle the chuckle bubbling out of him.

He knew she was afraid he still blamed her for leaving the first time he left all those years ago. Belgium couldn't stop trembling. Sweden rubbed the frail looking woman's shoulders and bare arms with his large hands.

Belgium tried to smile. Sweden gave her a deep kiss and explored the caverns of her mouth. He had drank in her essence and sweet smell, slowly, savoring every bit of her. She tasted sweet like chocolate. He could tell she was sneaking from her brownie batter back home. His own sweet tooth got the better of him, he deepened the kiss only to have her whimper out a tiny moan.

He loved having her so close to him. Sweden adored her willingness to please him. The man also found it rather cute that she was nervous about him leaving. She was the only person in his entire history that ever did that. Sweden pulled the woman tighter into him.

Neither of them paid any mind to the on lookers from the docks. It was a warm, sunny day. He felt her body stop trembling and actually wrap around him. The Swede swore he was never going to get used to that as much as he enjoyed it. He slightly picked her up off her feet. She was too busy in her world to even notice.

Sweden felt her tongue give way to his dominating kiss. She slid her hands on his cheeks delicately. She was still so thin and small after 15 years later from the war. He couldn't believe the woman couldn't gain any weight.

He didn't want to break her but he didn't want to hold back. The male nation compromised. Berwald firmly held her with his large hand planted between the shoulder blades and the other supporting her rear end so he could lift her.

He broke the kiss and set the golden blond back down to her feet. "I'll be b'ck. I pr'mise." He lifted her chin with his index finger and thumb, forcing her to look into his eyes. "I promise I'll wait this time", she whispered back. "I kn'w." He kissed her quickly on her plump, pink lips.

Berwlad adjusted his military uniform. She helped him. Her nimble fingers worked quickly on pulling the wool fabric straight. Bel even readjusted his white collar and navy blue tie. Men passing them to board the ferry were chuckling. Sweden's eyes never left Belgium. He knew he was coming back, he didn't know how to reassure her though.

"All aboard", a man cried out. Sweden knew he had to go. He kissed her again and turned to run up to the large ferry. When he got to the deck, he pushed his way past the other men who where waving good byes to their girlfriends and wives.

His eyes glanced around looking for her. Once he spotted Belgium, he saw her almost in tears but she tried to smile and wave despite everything. It broke his heart. Sweden really didn't want to leave her but he had too.

Belgium looked so lovely in her lavender colored, sun dress and matching straw swinger hat. Her gold curls bounced from underneath it as the wind picked up

She placed a hand on top of her floppy straw hat. It had a matching ribbon around the hat band, tied in a large bow in the back. The bows long ribbons waving in the wind behind her. They both waved until they couldn't see each other any more.

Sweden was in good spirits though seeing Bel's face trying to cover the pain she was feeling did tug at him. He took in a deep breath of warm, sea air as he leaned on the white railing and looked over the deep blue water. He'd make it up to her some how. The Swede couldn't help but smile. It felt good to have him waved off for once.

It was a new experience for the nation. He couldn't wait to return though. The was the longest month that ever went by, he swore. Then finally he was able to call her and that was a whole new adventure in it self...


	17. He Wasn't Prepared

Sweden's mind snapped back to the present. He found himself smiling widely. He was such an idiot then. He had to make his mistakes, he guessed, just like everyone else.

When Sweden was done inspecting the carvings, he slowly ran his hand over the smooth, cool surface of the top. His mind slowly trickled back to the past when he made the heavy piece of furniture for her.

He was just getting into carving furniture for a living and he had some extra time. Berwald had asked her what she wanted. Her reaction shocked him he had to admit. The Swede chuckled quietly to himself as he further examined the piece of furniture.

She didn't have much since the first war left her with nothing and she was to busy trying to rebuild everything for her people. Even though it had been 15 years, she still spent all her money repairing streets, rebuilding universities, improving her ports, very little on herself. She was practically still in rags when he moved in.

Sweden wasn't prepared for the phone call that took place between them. His beating heart almost leaped right out of his chest when she answered the phone and said, "hallo?" For some reason he expected her not to answer, much like his last wife did.

Upon hearing the sound of his Swedish accent, her angelic voice hit a new high point. Berwald had to pull the ear piece away from his ear as she squealed. Bel started speaking French and Dutch, forgetting any Swedish she had learned.

He couldn't understand a thing but it made him grin like the Cheshire Cat. Just hearing him say he was coming home after being gone for only a month, had her voice on a higher note on the other line. Bel acted like a school girl, she was asking questions faster then he could answer. He couldn't stop laughing.

The Swede paused to let her get all the excitement out of her system before trying to reply to anything. "Wh't w'uld you l'ke?" "What do you do mean", she asked puzzled. "You're coming home, aren't you? There isn't anything else that I could possibly want." To hear her say those words almost had him drop the phone. The large nation had to find a chair to sit in as he legs grew weak from the shock.

Sweden was so used to Finland telling him to take his time coming home or informing the Swede to take a little longer if he needed too. It wasn't a secret that Tino feared him, though the man, couldn't figure out why. Most of the time the Finnish man wasn't there when he returned. It hurt Sweden to come home to an empty house all those years ago.

Bel on the other hand, almost knocked Berwald over with her enthusiasm. When she told him all she wanted was for him to come home safely. His mind did a somersault. The man's mouth opened but no words came out, until she asked him to repeat himself to make sure she wasn't dreaming .

Yes the woman was almost in tears to see him leave for the month he was gone but it really didn't sink in how much she enjoyed having him around until that very phone call. Berwald's heart raced like a horse at the race track. He was blown away from her excitement.


	18. The Fool's Mistake

Sweden asked Belgium again, once she settled down. "W'uld you l'ke anyth'ng in p'rticular?" "Nothing I can think of." He chuckled. Berwald wanted to kill some time and he knew it would probably make the Belgian's day since he hasn't been able to talk to her all month. He stayed on the phone with her in the private study of his house in Stockholm.

"Wh't did ya do t'day?" He could hear Belgium take a seat and giggle like a child. "I cleaned house, made some chocolates for the local children. Oh, and I was folding laundry before you called." That's when the idea popped in his head. "You st'll put'n yer cl'ths in sm'll piles in the cl'set?" "Ja, I don't mind. I'm saving up for a dresser. I keep looking for boxes to put them in but can't find any."

"W'uld you l'ke sumth'ng to put th'm in?" "Oh, like a box?" Her voice had cheered up at the thought. "A ch'st m'ybe?" "Oh, Berwald... Uh, I couldn't ask you to do something that nice. I mean, if you want to. I wouldn't turn it down but don't go out of your way. They're expensive, I could never ask you to spend that kind of money."

Of all the things, in this world, she would rather prefer a small milk crate or a wooden produce box over him spending a little money on his own wife. "Nej, I'll m'ke you one." "Oh! You don't have.." "Nej. N'w d'nt 'rgue w'th me." Belgium fell silent after his abrupt interruption. His voice was stern but he wouldn't have his wife, living out of a box for only God knows how long.

"Dank u... I..I mean, tack. I don't know what to say." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Välkommen." "Berwald..." Her voice dropped to as soft whisper. He knew what she was about to say and it scared the hell out of him. Before Bel could say another word. "I m'ss you too B'lgium. I h've to go n'w. Tell me h'w do you w'nt yer ch'st to be dec'rated, bef're I go."

He could hear a disappointed sigh. It stung deeply and he could have swore his heart stopped. A part of him hated himself for panicing, she had every right to say it and hear it back. You're a bastard, kept coming up in his mind. His eyes fell to the oak desk and he thumbed the phone cord in his palm.

Berwald swallowed hard. The lump in his throat didn't go down, it stayed, painfully burning away. Sweden tried to clear his throat. He loved her, there was no doubt about that. The problem was, it had only been nine months since they were remarried. He didn't want to say anything to get her hopes up if something should happen. Plus he still had feelings for Tino.

"Uh, simple, just plain... Please..." As if the woman could read his mind, she added "I don't want you to put to much work into it. Good bye Berwald." The phone clicked. Belgium knew why he just interrupted her. She wasn't a fool. Bel knew deep down he still loved Tino and it wasn't her place to force Berwald to choose.

Sweden threw the phone. He was so pissed at himself. The man could have swore he ruined any chance he had at being happy with a wife who actually loved him. Belgium cooked, cleaned, and did something that Tino never did in the 500 years they were together. Bel saw him off with a promise to be there when he returned, he was praying to God she would be there when he got back.

Berwald clasped his hands over his face, feeling the weight of what he had just done come crashing down on him. "St'pid!" The Swede stood to this feet and swiped his arm across the desk. It's contents dumped on the floor; the man needed something to take his anger out on. His renown Swedish temper was getting the better of him.

Sweden's heart pounded painfully and his stomach dropped. The old viking clenched his fist. The man was doing everything in his power to keep his temper in check and not destroy his entire study. He blankly stared at his desk for what seemed like hours.

He was swearing silently to himself. To hear her voice drop like that felt like a dagger to his heart and lungs. The Swede personally just crushed her heart with his own hand. Berwald knew he hurt someone he loved. He didn't have a clue how to fix it though.


	19. Her Heart and His Lies

Sweden was never good with women. They were delicate creatures that could easily break. Women had the ability to put their heart in their hands and hand it over without any question. Belgium just did that but he refused to accept it. Much like what he did for Tino but Tino accepted it.

The only difference was he knew deep down what Tino was thinking when the man said he loved him too. It was nothing but a mere lie. Belgium on the other hand put her feelings out on the floor for him to see and he just stepped on them.

Sweden felt as if another part of him was running around out side his body as he looked around this dark study. It was evening and the sun had already fallen. The room was simple. Nothing to fancy. He had his dark oak desk, his matching book cases on the wall across from him and a few mementos from traveling the world as a viking. Dark blue curtains gave the ivory painted walls a splash of color.

He looked up at a painting on his wall. It was large, almost 5 feet tall itself. Berwald was attached to the painting for a few deep seeded reasons; needless to say he loved it so much that he personally carved the frame and painted it gold, to highlight the faint golds and reds in the painting itself.

Sweden had forgotten the artist's name but it was a roman woman, standing nude on a white step, looking forward at the fog surrounding her slightly thicker body. Her long golden blond hair covered her body like a veil, with red ribbons tied on the sides of her head and white flowers nestled in the curls.

The woman was pale in complexion. She stood with a stoic look on her beautiful face. Her eyes seemed to narrow at something. Her hands held out to the fog in front of her as if she was reaching for something or someone that wasn't there.

The Roman pillars placed behind her, indicating her status as a noble. He often wondered what she was reaching for. There was nothing in the back ground, just more fog. This painting intrigued him. He always felt as if he was the woman reaching for someone that wasn't there. "Tino."

Berwald shook his head. He could picture the woman as Belgium instead of him, now. She was always surrounded by insecurity but never stopped reaching out to those who needed her. The woman was stronger then him in that perspective. Sweden ran his hand down his face slowly. He really messed up this time, the nation thought to himself.

Sweden knew he had to make it better. He wanted a family, no..., he needed the family she offered him. Belgium gave him everything he ever wanted. He was going to try and save their relationship. Sweden leaned back, settling on the desk's edge behind him. He crossed his arms and thought hard.

An idea flickered in his mind and smile curled up. Most people wouldn't appreciate it, but he knew she would love it. The man would just had to make sure, he erased every doubt in her head when he got home...


	20. Jag älskar Dig

It had been 3 days after that particular phone call. Sweden had finished her present. He called the house to make sure she was still there, also to see if she would even talk to him again. When he heard the click of the phone as she picked up and accepted his phone, he almost fainted.

"Hallo?" Her voice was hoarse. "You d'nt s'und gud. Ar' you alr'ght?" He could hear her groan. "Ja... Just..." She let out a deep sigh. "Just not feeling well. Is everything ok?" Even her voice, as hoarse as it was, had a ring of concern and sadness to it.

"Ja, I'm c'ming h'me in three d'ys." "That's wonderful", she began to cough. She tried to sound enthused but he couldn't tell if was her being sick or if she was trying to hide something from him. "Wha's wr'ng? Yer n't w'll."

He was concerned. "Don't worry Berwald. I'm fine. I'll be well by the time you get home. I'll be at the docks waiting for your return, I promise." She tried to smooth his ruffling feathers. "Bel, t'll me... Wh't h'ppened?"

Belgium chuckled. "I caught a cold." "Därför? Wh't d'd you do?" His voice was stern. He needed answers. He immediately thought of the worse scenarios. Berwald was afraid she went off, got drunk and cheated on him.

The nation was sort of the jealous type when came down to it. He could understand why she would, but it hurt deeply to think she was with another person. His mind slowly darkened.

"Promise, you won't get mad." Her coy games wasn't helping his dark, wild imagination. "T'll me", he demanded. He tried to keep his temper down but it was slowly eating away at any reserve he had. Sweden realized how much he really loved her, when he thought he had lost her to someone one else.

He clenched the phone and closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. His chest was tight and he could feel his ears begin to ring. His blood pressure was climbing. He was going to lose it if she continued with her little game.

"Alright... Alright... I went out last night with my broer. He had me drink with him until I drank enough to drown a fish. Then the bastard tried to convence me to forget all about you. Needless to say I had a hard time walking home by myself as drunk as I was but I managed... after eating dirt a few times."

Bel started coughing again. He could tell she was straining to speak, her throat must have been raw. "Then it started raining... and I know how you just hate it when I don't wear my coat with Fall approaching. I just figured you'd get upset. I'm sorry..."

"Nej, I'm irrit'ted but not ups't w't you." "Ja you are. I can hear it in your voice." "Nej", he said. The truth, he was. The man was pissed. Her brother should have known better then to take her out on a night with no coat and a storm brewing.

He knew Netherlands could read the weather just as good as he could. Bel could be such a child at times too, she probably turned down the jacket when she decided to go with him; but despite all that, a part of Berwald was happy all the same. Belgium didn't want to forget him. He still had hope for the future.

"Ja you are", again she said with a light chuckle. "Nej. Jus' w'rried fer you." "Wait, you were worried...? You were upset that I wouldn't tell you why I was sick. That means you were worried before I told you what happened, just by the sound of your voice... " Sweden could tell her little, hung over mind was starting to click.

She gasped and coughed. "Berwald! I would never... " Bel tried to speak between coughs. "I would never cheat on you!" Sweden felt like he was getting scolded. He actually fidgeted with the phone cord, his eyes dropped to his desk when he opened them and he was subconsciously running his toe into the floor.

"Don't.." "Bel, g't sum sl'ep", he interrupted with the soothing voice she was so used to. "Alright", she said in a whisper. "Jag älskar dig." She chuckled lightly. "Berwald, my Swedish isn't that good and I'm tired. I don't know what you just said and that's not fair." He couldn't help but smile. "D'nt w'rry. It's a way of saying gud n'ght ov'r here."

"Oh, well good night then. I miss you. Hurry home." She began to cough and hung up the phone. To hear her still say those words in an honest, caring tone made his heart do leaps and bounds every where. Berwald was shaking with excitement to get home. He couldn't wait to see her expression...


	21. Keeping Her Promise

That next morning Sweden took the ferry home. When he arrived back in Brussels, it was almost midnight. Berwald walked up to the white, door and started fidgeting in his pocket for the key. When he found it, he paused a moment.

Berwald stared at the brass handle. He could place money down on a bet, that the door was unlocked. She never did lock it, though time and time again he told her to do so. Berwald took in a deep breath of cold air and placed his hand on the cold metal, door knob.

It turned with ease and the door opened without making a sound. "Bel...", he groaned softly. The house was dark but warm. The warmer air hit his cheeks and he smiled. The smell of chocolate wafted under his nose. He was home.

He could hear her coughing upstairs. The place was clean but still felt empty. She had some furniture but the place still had a bare feeling to it. Bel never was into paintings and a few black and white pictures she did have, she kept in a photo album.

The stair way that led up to her room was dark, almost eerie. The echoes of her coughing pierced the subtleties of the home. Berwald quickly and yet quietly shut the door behind him setting down his duffel bag. He also began to quickly unbutton his coat.

Once he shrugged his blue wool over coat and took off his gloves, he hung it next to hers. Berwald made quick work of his military boots. Bending over and tugging at the laces and pulling the heavy leather boots off. His eyes never left the stairs. He was afraid she might venture down and spoil his surprise.

Once he was ready, he tip-toed up the stairs. Her bedroom door was even cracked open. Sweden shook his head as he opened the door further to reveal a restless Belgium trying to sleep.

Her thick, wool blankets scattered on top of her. Her golden locks of hair, sprawled out in a mess. Her lips were ruby red and her face was flushed white as the sheets bunched up around the sleeping beauty. Sweat beaded up on her brow and her breaths were shallow.

Her breathing was rasp, it worried him. Cool air hit his cheeks as the white curtains fluttered at him. He closed his eyes. She was running a fever and probably thought fresh air was the best. Sweden quickly walked over and closed the window.

Bel didn't even stir from the sounds. The woman rolled on her side and hugged a pillow in a dark green pillow case, to her chest. Sweden strolled over to her. He kept his foot steps light. He examined the sleeping nation before sitting next to her.

Sweden smiled. Even though she was sick, this was still more then what he could ask for. Berwald sat on the mattress. It creaked, and his weight forced the material down a little. Belgium stirred and groaned.

"Please let that be you, Sweden..." Her voice was barely a whisper but he still heard her. "Ja... It is..." She rolled over to face him. The light in her eyes was dull but he could still see flickers of happiness in the dark orbs.

"You're home... Unless I'm dreaming...", Belgium continued to whisper but a small smile from her lips graced him. "Nej, it's n't a dre'm... I'm h'me." Sweden leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was damp and burned his lips. "Yer run'n a f'ver." Berwald begun to pull wet, strands of hair from her forehead and cheeks as she nodded.

"I'm sorry... I should have listened to you." He couldn't stop smiling to save his life. Bel was as cute as a button when she was sick. His blue eyes briefly met her own eyes before she closed them. "I love you...", she said in a whisper. "Jag älskar dig också." Belgium's eyes closed slowly but her smile remained.

Sweden yawned and stretched before getting up to undress. He was home and it felt good for the first time in a long time. Berwald stared briefly at the female nation. She maybe sick, but it was nice to hear those words come from her lips. He had to admit he was still frightened but not nearly as bad from before. Relief swept over him as he began to unbutton his shirt.

Bel was in bed. _His_ Belgium was where she promised she'd be. His eyes lit up with joy. Sweden swore under his hot breath, next time he'd take her with him. He never want to see her hurt herself due to neglect again.

Sweden hissed as cold air from the window being open, prior, nipped at his warm skin. He was quick to slide in bed next to his sleeping wife. Her nude body burned like hot metal and it was sticky from sweating. Her fever burned like coals on a fire.

He kissed her bare shoulder as she shifted away from him, allowing him more access to slide further under the covers. His hand traveled on it's own will, rubbing and caressing the sleeping nation's body. She shifted and moaned as he felt her curves. He wanted to becareful not to disturb her to much, though it would have been nicer if she hadn't been sick.

Sweden couldn't stop smiling no matter how hard he tried. She was real and waiting for him. He shifted a pillow under his head and watched her sleep the whole night. He was her dream come true and she was his...


	22. To Shave or Not to Shave

Sorry I went on Vacation, so now I'm back and here's the newest chapters... I apologize if they seemed a little rushed. I was excited to get home and work on it again.

The male nation stood up after his mind slowly coming back to the present. Berwald continued to smile. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a glimpse of what he thought was his cloths. The nude nation turned his head to confirm his cloths were neatly hanging on the wall.

His navy suit jacket was hanging on a separate hanger, it was pressed. The dark grey button up was draped over his navy blue slacks, both pressed and ironed as well. His black socks and silk boxers were hanging over his jacket's shoulder. Bel really knew how to take care of him, he thought.

As soon as the man dressed, he draped his jacket over his arm and walked downstairs. He still needed to shave as he couldn't stop rubbing his hand over his chin. When the vikings started shaving and it was more stylish for a man to go without a beard, Sweden found himself adoring the feel of his his smooth skin. It didn't itch when it was shaved and most of all he enjoyed the scent of after shave.

Sweden realized the house was quiet when he reached the bottom of the stairs. With a puzzled expression Berwald started walking through the empty house. When the Swede made his way to the kitchen, he missed the little white note sitting on the table. He looked outside to see Bel's car still there. Where did they go off too, he wondered.

His dark blue eyes glanced over to the clock on the stove. It was 3:23 in the afternoon. The man slept a better part of the day away. He silently cursed himself. Berwald's eyes finally noticed a white little piece of paper against the wooden table.

Sweden turned towards it, subconsciously walking to it. He picked up the thin paper but the writing was blurry. The man groaned. His glasses, he forgot them. Berwald pinched the bridge of his nose. When the man put the paper down his pinkie bumped something.

The Swede blinked a few times to see his glasses sitting next to the note. It saved him a lot of frustration of trying to remember where he left them. He quickly put them on and the slightly fuzzy world became clear. The blond nation sighed. "Bel..."

With nimble fingers and speed, he picked up the note. Bel's hand writing as always was easy to read. The cursive words were smooth and clear. It was a little thing he missed about her. All her letters she used to send him. He pulled out a wooden chair from the table by the back and sunk into it slowly.

_Good morning sleepy head. If you're reading this then you found your glasses I put on the table since you forgot them in the bathroom. Peter wanted to see this end of Brussels so I decided to take him to a few parks and maybe get some ice cream. _

_We left after lunch and will be back around 4:30 or so. When we return I'll start dinner. I hope you and Peter decide to stay. It's nice having some company that doesn't complain all the time. _

_Oh another thing... Press start on the coffee pot if you want some, I also left out the shaving cream, razors, and after shave of my brother's, I noticed you didn't shave when I came in and dropped off your laundry. So stop playing with your chin... _

_Sincerly,_

_Bel..._

Berwald lifted his hand from his chin and laughed. His skin was a little raw from rubbing it consistently. She still knew him well, the man thought. He couldn't help but smile and followed by a little chuckle. One thing did puzzle him. Who was her company she had over that always complained. Why would they?

Berwald let out a deep _hmm..._ His mind began to work slowly. His thoughts were clear and his body was rested. He continued to sit and think before getting up to do anything. The man sat quietly, leaning back and folding into his thoughts

Maybe after he was done, he could call Bel and tell her to take a little extra time with Peter so he could go home and change, grab his tool belt, and fix the piping under the sink; but that might require taking some time off tomorrow. The sink joints were buckling but the sink probably ran just fine, it meant pressure below the house was building that would take a day or two to fix.

He didn't mind that actually. It'll help him get some time to clear things up with Tino about the arrangement they made over Peter. Berwald knew deep down Bel wouldn't mind watching his son. Berwald started rubbing his already raw chin, again. He just couldn't keep his fingers off the stubble even though he flinched from the burn of his own touch.

That sounded like an excellent plan, besides he wouldn't miss Belgium's cooking for anything not to mention her desserts. He chuckled loudly as he stood up and stretched. Just like old times, Sweden thought to himself as a wider grin developed on his lips.


	23. Sealand Saves the Princess

Later that evening Belgium had dinner finished before Berwald got back from changing. He told her to go ahead to make dinner for the three of them. The nation proceeded on to tell her he wanted to change into some jeans. She understood. Her heart was a flutter the rest of the day all the way until dinner.

Sealand and her ate already, he was diving into the brownie sundae she made him. Chocolate syrup over vanilla ice cream over a hot steaming brownie. The boy was silent as he ate his dessert. Peter was such a joy to have around she thought.

He reminded her of all the times she took care of Lovi. They young nation had made her day with is little jokes, his bright smile, and wonderful imagination. Sealand and her managed to turn a slide into a fort. Then shortly after France walked by with some lady friend.

France always in the mood to play, politely excused himself from his lady friend who didn't seem to happy about it and ran over asking to play with the both of them. Bel's mind came back to the present a brief moment as she remained leaning on the kitchen counter, watching the child eat away at her delightful dessert.

Her dark green eyes lit up and a faint, slightly sad smile grew on her lips as she fell back into the day's events. France wanting to play too, so he discarded his white jacket to this suit and took off his white tie. One given the ok, he proceeded to chase them both around up and down, all the way around the slide.

They pretended that Bel was the princess and Sealand was the prince, France took the roll of the evil black knight and chased Sealand around and around through the whole park. Not once slowing down. In the whole chaos, the boys had managed to pick up cypress sticks and started up sword play.

France even took a few stab wounds, feigning for the entertainment of the child. The man's blue eyes lit up with happiness and joy. It's been a while since she heard him laugh so lightheartedly. There in the park was a boy in his blue and white uniform and blue hat, playing swords with a man in a pink button up shirt and white slacks.

After it was all said done, Peter ran to the slide where she sat up on the top watching it all. France was strolling slowly behind trying to recover his breath, with a wide grin across his face. Peter took off his hat and bowed like the gentleman of old used to do. "Mi'lady! I'm coming up to rescue you!"

Bel clapped her hands and cheered. Peter climbed the ladder up to the top where Bel slid down the slide, followed by Sealand. He proceeded to stand after she was on her feet. He offered his hand like a gentlemen. She gave him her hand where he kissed the top of her knuckles.

"Mi'lady you now have been saved. I vanquished the evil knight now..." He dropped his manly voice. "Can we go get some strawberry milk please?" Bel laughed hysterically. "Of course my prince. You deserve it." France finally waltzed up. Where he and her watched Sealand dart towards the food cart.

Both nations snickering as the local girls saw Peter save Bel and now was hoping he'd play with them. "Kissing of the hand?" Belgium gave Francis a raised eyebrow. "Oui, mon cherie. He asked me how to properly save a princess. I gave him a few pointers back there while crossing swords." "Ahh..", Bel stated while tilting her head as they managed their way to the cart where Sealand waited.


	24. Her Mistake

Belgium's mind snapped back to reality as she heard a forceful knock on the door. Her face grew a little concerned. She didn't know anyone with that kind of a knock. She gave a Peter, who looked up blinking out of startlement, a reassuring smile. "Finish your brownie. I'll be back shortly." Bel did her best to keep her voice from quivering. She was frightened, more so for Peter's sake then her own.

The heavy loud knock startled her. Bel let out a yelp and hoped Sealand didn't hear it. The woman quickly made her way to her wooden door that seemed to quiver itself. Before another angry knock was heard, she opened the door to see a Spaniard with darkened cheeks, glassy eyes, and a bottle of wine in his large palm.

The smell of wine was strong and seemed to penetrate her senses. She would have never in a million years let in him in the state he was in and now with Peter, Hell could freeze over, she'd never let him in but she didn't need him howling at her door either.

Belgium pushed herself forward, forcing the drunken nation back. Her hand snaked around locking the knob to the door before she closed it behind her. If her plan to talk him into going home failed, he'd need a key to get in. The woman was frightened and she showed it. It was her first mistake she thought.

This man was dangerous, especially when he drank. Belgium swore she didn't care, putting a barrier between him and Peter was all that was on her mind at the time. "B..Belgium... You look hermoso tonight." His blood shot, green eyes looked her up and down in a sleazy fashion. "Go home Antonio." Bel raised her voice, her second mistake she thought.

Belgium wanted her voice to be at least loud enough that her neighbors would hear. Especially since she had the luck of having Germany live next door. She prayed his dogs would start barking. To her surprise they didn't. Damn, why did he have to take them for a walk right now, the desperate woman wondered.

His eyes narrowed on the small framed, nation. "What if I don't want to senorita?" Spain's voice was husky and dark. Antonio grabbed the back of her head with lightning speed. Damn, he was fast she thought. He pulled her hair back. Tears of pain welled up in her eyes. "Spain, let go... You're hurting me", Belgium could barely choke out.

He held her head back painfully as he pulled her in to lick the side of her neck. Belgium cringed. "Antonio, stop... You're drunk!" "Call me Boss and I'll thinking about it", he hissed through his teeth. The smell of wine and sweat almost made her ill but not as sick as calling him Boss again.

"Go to hell!" Her third mistake, to deny what he desired while intoxicated. She tightened her jaw. The Belgian knew what to prepare herself for as he let go of her hair. Pain surged through her jaw line as he hit the ground. The heavy back hand knocked her to the ground, causing her to land on her side.

The air was knocked out of her as her ribs made contact with the hard soil. A heavy, leather shoe found its way into her pelvis and then her ribs, followed by a swift kick to the shoulder. The assaults paused. Her adrenaline was rushing. She couldn't let Peter see this. Bel noticed all pain had ceased as her thoughts concerning the young boy in the house flooded her mind.

"L.. Look what you made me do Bel!" The Spaniard laughed. "Jus' like ol' times!" To hear those words come from his lips, twisted something inside her. The feeling dark and hateful. It was true, he was a cruel master when she lived under his house, but this was her house, her country, her land, her... yard...


	25. Her Son and Ol' Times!

The sky cracked with lightning and it started raining heavy. The bubbly drunkard paid no mind to the cold rain nor the coldness in her dark, green eyes. Blood spilled from her nose and lip but she paid no heed to that. By no means was she weak, he seemed to have forgotten who he was kicking on the ground.

Belgium's nails sunk into the soil, finding a medium size rock that fit just right in her palm. She plucked it as the man pulled the cork out of the bottle, with his teeth and spit it before taking a long, staggering drink from it. This wasn't the first time he had come by like this but never did she have someone to protect.

She knew Spain's tendencies towards Lovi, her son. Bel hated Spain for everything that man did to her and her Italian boy. Blond hairs soaked with water stuck to her bruising cheek. The Belgium slowly inched her way to lifting herself. She knew she only had one chance at this.

While Spain was busy with this head tilted towards the falling, dark sky, Bel stood slowly like a creature rising from the dark depths. Before the Spaniard could react, she hit him with all her might across the face. She didn't aim, the desperate woman just hit him in the jaw line, or was it the cheek? The woman didn't know.

Belgium couldn't tell where she hit the olive skinned man. As he toppled she immediately started beating him in the face and head with the rock in her hand. Bel couldn't aim, her eyes were blurry with madness and hot tears. The man tried to defend himself by trying to catch her wrists.

He blurted out bitch and a few other names in Spanish. Spain finally rolled her over on her back where he punched her like he would a man. Dizzy she dropped the stone as he proceeded to hit her again and again. The drunk giggled as he wiped the blood on his bare knuckles.

His white t-shirt was soaked and his dark blue jeans were muddy. He didn't care. All he saw was a woman he owned disobeying him. Bel was still his no matter how hard she tried to deny it. She needed another lesson. The man looked for his bottle of wine but couldn't see the bottle any more.

His drunken green eyes scanned the woman's face that was slightly tilting to the side. Her eyes were in a daze. He had hit her harder then he planned but oh well, she was a nation, she'd recover soon enough. Bel got her barrings again and spit in the smirking Spaniard.

"Jus' like ol' times, huh, Bella?" His voice chirped as he wiped the spit from his cheek. "Go to hell!" Her voice cracked as she screamed. Belgium tried to push him off, she managed to claw his bare, tanned arms before he back handed her again. This time she yelped like a wounded dog, Spain thought.


	26. A Viking's Anger

Spain couldn't help but enjoy the dominance he had over the woman under him. He straddled her hips giggling like the mad man he was when he drank to much. His body was ridged and his heart pounded anxiously. Antonio smiled widely again.

"Stig av henne, din skithög!" Spain looked up to see where the deep angered voice bellowed from. His eyes widened to see an angry Swede's face twisted, his dark blue eyes filled with heat before the giant's fist hitting him. The crack of the contact between his jaw and Sweden's fist, almost bursted Antonio's own ear drums.

Spain kept staggering to his feet and falling down as Sweden picked up a gardening shovel propped up against the white fence that bordered Belgium's property. He quickly stepped to the dizzy and disoriented Spaniard, hitting him across the face with the back of the shovel, like a baseball bat. A loud, dull, thud was heard before Antonio collapsed to the ground.

Spain was out cold. Sweden wanted to hit him again and again. He wanted to see that man's blood every where. Anger filled the Swedish man. He couldn't contain the heat of the viking blood burning inside his veins. Sweden's heart raced, his own ears felt the beating of his own heart. Berwald gritted his teeth and raised the shovel over his head to crush the man's skull.

How dare he..., was all the man could think. Belgium got to her feet and staggered over to Sweden. Even in the state she was in, the woman still managed to keep a lid on things. She honestly wanted to see Spain's head become a mashed pulp but it wasn't right.

Bel placed a trembling but soothing hand on Sweden's back followed by an arm wrapping around his waist. She pressed her bruised forehead between his shoulder blades. This startled the Swede and he lowered the gardening tool, to his side. His smoldering, furious eyes never leaving the limp nation bleeding profusely from his head and mouth.

"Peter's watching..." Belgium's voice quivered as she choked down the sobs trying to work themselves out. Sweden's eyes glanced up to the kitchen window where he saw his boy peering in shock and horror. The man sighed. He was thankful his son was inside and not out here, he had a feeling Bel had something to do with it.

"Are y'u gonna be 'lright?" He whispered back, glancing over his shoulder at the top of her head. "Don't worry about me. I'm used to this. Take your son home. He needs you." Her voice was soft, but it faltered. Sweden's heart stopped, to hear her say she was used to it, killed him. The Swede knew she couldn't be alright but there was nothing he could do at the moment.

Sweden tried to think of a way he could stay. Berwald needed her as much as she needed him. His day didn't seem as bad as hers but it was. He was looking forward to coming here. Yes he was late, he bought her a bouquet of red poppies to make up for it. He just really needed to hear her laugh and see her smile. Now he wasn't going to see that for a while, thanks to this asshole.

The rain soaked his black, cotton t-shirt and jeans. A cold chill ran down his spine but stopped where her forehead pressed against him. "Get 'nside. I'll t'ke c're of him." Berwald tossed the heavy shovel to the side and proceeded to grab Spain by the back of the shirt, dragging him through the mud of her yard and across the pavement to France's house. Belgium blinked, she couldn't process what was going on inside Sweden's head.

She stood looking puzzled. Her cheeks were swelling and her nose started to bleed again. Pain was settling in. She could have sworn she told the man to take Peter home but it didn't seem like he was planning on doing that. Maybe she was wrong, he was going to leave after he took the threat away. That had to be it, she thought. Her mind fogging up with pain.


	27. No Funny Business!

The woman limped and groaned. Breathing was painful, her ribs were bruised. It took her a few minutes to get to her front porch. When she heard Germany speak up. He had ran back with his dogs, to get out of the rain.

"Belgium! Mein Gott vhat happened!" She just waved and tried to smile with her swollen, split lip. "It's alright Ludwig... Go inside." Her voice choked. Bel's chest stirred with mixed feelings. She held her stomach tightly causing her to bend over slightly.

The German stood there in amazement as rain poured down on him, soaking him in his dark grey gym pants and matching muscle shirt. His observant eyes spotted the broken wine bottle through the heavy dark rain. "It vas dat man again, vasn't it!" Germany's voice snarled. His blue eyes focused on the limping woman. "Let me help you, at least..." He jumped the fence and quickly made it to her side.

Belgium tried to walk up the stairs but to no success. Ludwig guided her to her feet and plucked her effortlessly into his strong arms. "The door's locked", Bel managed to mumble. Germany wondered why she would lock the door and come out in this weather. All she needed to do was remain behind the door until he got back from his evening walk.

Ludwig knew where she kept her spare, he reached above his head with a free arm. It was easy to carry such a smaller nation with one arm, it was balancing that was the trick. Bel didn't seem to mind either, his body heat offered some comfort. She did start coughing and holding her ribs. Ludwig shook his head at her, mumbling inaudible German.

Once the door was opened a messy haired, blond boy with thick brows that reminded him of England came rushing out of the kitchen. "Bel", he yelled. Ludwig understood instantly why she would take such a beating. The German grumbled to himself. He blamed himself for not being home.

"She'll ve fine", Ludwig said soothingly. The boy's green eyes widened as he examined the broken woman in the German's arms. "...She will?..." Peter couldn't believe what all he had just saw. His mind was in a panic and the one person that could settle him down was off dragging the bad man some where else.

"Peter", Belgium whispered. "Your papa will be right back. He's fine." The boy wanted to do something. He felt so helpless inside the kitchen as he watched Belgium take a severe beating. The German could see the boy's concern but had no solution to the problem. He let out a deep sigh.

Ludwig carried to the couch and begun to look over her. As soon as he started to raise her red tank top, the boy yelled out."Hey! No funny business, blood wanker!" Sealand pointed and wiggled his index finger at Germany who was doing his best not to laugh in the boy's presence. "I have to see if d'ere is any internal damages." Sealand couldn't rebuttal so he crossed his arms and glared, not moving from his spot in the middle of the living room.

Belgium's swelling eyes finally shut. The pain was to much for her as she drifted into blackness. Knowing Ludwig was there to watch over Sealand until Berwald got back was all she needed. The woman could finally let go and disappear into darkness she welcomed as it offered temporary relief, until the next morning of course.


	28. The Unknown

Sweden started to run, leaving the beaten Spain on France's front door step. France didn't even seem phased by the situation. He just gave the Swede a pleasant smile, until Berwald informed him of Belgium's condition. The man's expression drastically changed. A worried look, followed by a deep sigh, led Sweden to believe this has happened before. When he asked the Frenchman about it, he simply told the soaked nation to ask Germany.

Sweden was running as fast as he could through the cold, pouring down rain. His heart was beating powerfully. His own body shook with every beat. Berwald feared for his son and what he was had to witness, not to mention Bel and what she just went through. He needed to see them both. He blamed himself for the entire mess as his mind was slowly wrapping around the unknown.

The unknown..., he hated that feeling. That familiar, dark, sensation crept slowly through him. It was something Sweden despised. That same emotion of fear of the unknowing he had to live with so many years ago, was coming back with sheer force.

He gritted his teeth as lightning cracked above him. The normally stoic nation, was running through the blistering rain desperately. His glasses fogged up but he continued forward without missing a step. The Swede's long legs screamed at him to stop but the stubborn man didn't listen. His thoughts swam around two people whom he loved dearly.

His tired, heavy legs carried him swiftly along the sidewalk. Luckily people were in side their homes and didn't notice a large, heavily drenched, blond man running like a mad man towards the Belgian's house. Once he got to her porch, he finally stopped to catch his breath.

Sweden bent over, gasping and forcing cold, sharp air into his lungs. This caused his chest to hurt and him to cough. His legs wobbled but there was no time to sit and rest. He needed his son safely in his arms and Belgium to be alright but the old viking knew that wasn't going to be possible.

He recalled when he stepped out of his car, he heard the loud whack Spain's knuckles made, grabbing to his attention. Berwald's eyes narrowed on the pools of water that formed under him. A normal man's jaw would have been broken. Bel on the other hand wasn't a normal person, she was as tough as nails when it came down to it.

It still burned Sweden's soul, when he saw the man on top of her, straddling her like she was some sort of an animal to be ridden. Berwald's skin crawled. He wanted to do more to Spain, then just hit him once with the shovel. Hot tears started spilling down the frigged cheeks of the blond nation. His glasses fogged up further, this time forcing him to take them off and clear them up.

He wasn't there again and this time his son was involved. The viking felt about two inches tall and worthless. A lump developed in his throat, his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He slowly straightened out and stood on his feet. The painful sensation traveled through his chest and down his back. Sweden pulled up the bottom of his dripping, black t-shirt and wiped his cheeks.

No, he told himself. Berwald knew there was a time for a breakdown but that would be later. Right now he had his son to comfort and a woman to tend to. Besides the Swede knew that she wouldn't rest until he returned and he wasn't going to make her wait any longer.


	29. Look What The Cat Dragged In

Berwald came in with some force and without knocking. This caused a surprised German to leap to his feet and meet him halfway down the hallway with some urgency. He met the soaking, dripping Swede half way between the kitchen and the entry.

Sweden could hear the television softly playing in the back ground and his mind wondered where his son was but Germany wasn't allowing anyone to go any where until his own questions were answered. This surprised Sweden, let alone a German who wasn't used to all this chaos and left a tiny nation sleeping on Bel's couch.

Both nation's squared up and stared at each other, wondering what the other was doing there. Both Alpha males stared each other down briefly before a slightly louder moan emitted from upstairs. Belgien was clearly in pain and something needed to be said before both of them pummel each other over a misunderstanding.

"Vhy are you here", the German asked with a stern, yet quiet voice. His muscles flexed waiting for the wrong answer. "P'ter is my son. Bel was w'tching h'm fer me." Germany nodded and made a hand signal for Sweden to keep his voice low as the German stepped to the side pointing to the living room.

Berwald walked up to edge of the entrance to the medium sized room. His son was passed out and curled up on the couch, covered by a soft, yellow quilt. The green sofa seemed to engulf the boy and he seemed peaceful as he slept. Sweden couldn't help but smile, a part of him was relieved that his son was sleeping so soundly.

Berwald's dark blue eyes drank in his son's image. His pounding heart began to slow. Sweden's body was slowly turning to normal for the most part. As Peter shifted in his sleep, frizzy strands of hair popped straight up, like three long cow licks.

Germany crossed his muscular arms. "Belgien vill be alright in about a week, give or take." The German spoke softly and slowly, caring not to wake the sleeping nations. Berwald's smile quickly faded into a frown as his eyes stifted and stared at the German, now leaning on the wall.

"Why?" Sweden wasn't one for much talk but his demanding, yet quiet tone was enough to have the German straighten up. "Broken collar bone, broken ribs, broken nose, broken fingers, and possibly a broken hip."

The German continued with a heavy heart. Seeing his friend in this condition wasn't easy for him at all. "She's a nation though. Bel vill heal faster den a human. You know dis. I'll take some time off..." Berwald quickly interrupted the helpful German.

"Nej, I'll do it. She s'ved my s'n. I 'we her one." Germany nodded as he understood. "L't me 'sk you dis though." The blond, German nation shoved his hands into his pockets and stood silently. "Vhat is it?" "Why d'dn't you c'me to her s''ner?" The German nation ran his fingers through his blond hair, slicking it back as a rouge lock of hair, fell forward. The man's eyes fell to the floor.

"I vas valking my dogs. Vhen I got home, die poor woman vas trying to make it up the die stairs. I helped vhere I could." Sweden's eyes fell to the floor as well. The wooden floor boards were now muddy from his own boots and wet cloths. "Ve can discuss dis another time. Bel seems to be in pain, I called Italy to bring more pain killers for her."

That particular sentence disturbed Sweden. To bring more, had she had problems and needed them or was his suspicions correct and this happens more so on a regular basis? He was a little disturbed to think the last part was something of a reality. Sweden would have to inquire more as he went into the kitchen and the German went upstairs.

The men knew this was going to be a long stressful night. Both of them wished it never happened and only God knows why it did...


	30. It's Easier to Lie to Another

Moments later Germany came down stairs quietly. The German looked saddened and angry as he slowly entered the kitchen. His brows furrowed and his eyes seemed blank. Sweden heard the slightly shorter nation let out a deep, slow sigh of frustration. "C'ffee is d'ne." Sweden's voice remaining low. Germany nodded to him before walking to the black device and grabbing a deep red coffee mug from the cabinet.

Sweden didn't know why it bothered him that Ludwig knew his way around Belgium's kitchen. Berwald hasn't really seen her in almost 30 years, since he and Tino were seeing each other again. It wasn't his place to get jealous over Germany and yet he was.

Ludwig sat down at the table. His dark blue eyes met Sweden's watery blue orbs. "She vishes to speak vith you. Belgien has been asking for you since I laid her to bed." Sweden's heart stopped. It took no time for the large nation to get to his feet.

The German sighed as he sat down at the table. Sweden made his way out of the kitchen quickly, the German paid no mind to him. He was to deep into his own thoughts to really care about the Swede at the moment.

Ludwig wished the night had never happened. Germany's spirits dropped. He needed his little Italy to hug him and tell him it'll be alright. It was easy for Ludwig to tell Peter everything the boy needed to hear. She'll be ok, she'll recover soon, this will never happen again..., but lying to a child seemed to be easier then to lie to himself.

He needed the Italian to comfort him. Germany felt alone, it was either Italy or Belgien that comforted the man in times of despair and no one was there now, even with the Swede, he felt no solace from him. The German shivered.

The man rubbed his temples. This time was bad he thought, returning to his prior thoughts. The beatings have gotten worse and more bolder. Ludwig wondered what would happen next time, would Spain go out of his way to kill her? Would the Spaniard be able to drag her back to his house next time and do only God knows what?


	31. I Need a Drink

Germany clenched his jaw. Belgium or Belgien he enjoyed calling her sometimes, was a good friend. It took them a few years to get back to saying hello to one another but they did. When he moved to Brussels for the U.N., she recommended he buy a house next to hers, so he didn't have to go through housing.

She helped him move into the neighborhood, get settled in, and even help him learn Flemish, so he could enjoy a conversation with an old timer or two. Ludwig continued to think back to how kind she was to him after everything he did to her. The woman still managed a smile after all these years and yet he still couldn't stand France or Russia's presence.

Germany admired her for her strength and forgiveness, not to mention grateful since his list of friends consisted of only two people and his brother. She often brought goodies over and watched his dogs for him when he was away. Belgium never once complained or told him no, of anything he asked.

Then the day he saw the bruised hand print around her neck. She didn't go to work that day so he thought he'd stop by and visit. Bel didn't have time to hide it or cover it up, so when she answered the door he was shocked she didn't open the door all the way.

She only cracked the pale green door and peeked around it. Bel tried to convince him she was sick. Her voice was hoarse but the German spotted a dark purple blotch under her left eyes. He used his boot to the door way and pushed it open with a little force.

Bel had taken a few steps back, wearing a dark grey hoodie and black sweat pants. Her hair looked messy and uncombed, her house was wrecked, and she had the curtains drawn closed so no one could see from the outside, in.

For a moment, he thought a hurricane blew through her home and broke all her furniture but Ludwig knew better. He assumed it was her brother, who was high on something. Germany was so astounded by the whole sight of it, that he was speechless. He had so many questions as he stood there in his grey, military uniform.

She was so quiet and looking nervous, he knew something was still wrong. He reached out to touch her but she retracted. "Fräulein, vhat happened", he had asked. His words were choked out the best he could; Ludwig wasn't used to seeing this much chaos in anyone's home unless it was war time and that was different.

"Luddy, please.. don't ask..." Bel flinched hearing her own words fall from her slightly swollen lip. He realized she was hurt more then she let on. She whimpered as she stood there a little longer. "Belgien please... Let me help you. I know we've had... Vell you know... In the past. I vant to make it up to you." The German couldn't help but to look worried.

Ludwig will never forget her expression that particular day. It was the look of despair in her dark, dull, green eyes. Her eyes filled with tears and he wanted nothing more then to help a friend in need. Bel had helped him so much, he doesn't think she will ever realize how much though.

He took a step closer, his boot crushed more broken glass on the wooden floor. Like a scared, wounded animal she took a step back. Ludwig wasn't about to give up though, he finally snagged her wrist and pulled her close. Bel fought and struggled until she gave up.

The shorter, smaller nation broke down in loud sobs and cries as she clung to the German. That's when he was informed how Spain liked to come around intoxicated and do what he does. The German's eyes narrowed on the kitchen table as he forced his mind to stop remembering the past.

His forcibly relaxed his jaw, taking a sip of his coffee. A deep, rumbling snarl worked it's way out of him. "God, I need a drink", he mumbled to himself but he remembered what his Italy made him promise. Only after Italy gets there could he drink. Italy knew how to keep him under control, Germany had to admit to himself. "Hurry, meine kleine Italien. God, please hurry."

Germany laid his head on the table. He needed his Italy to hold. Ludwig closed his tired, stressed eyes. The last of his thoughts still remained on his guilt over Belgien and his little Italian coming over. Darkness took over as he let out his last heavy sigh...


	32. The Tears of Sweden

Sweden's legs carried him swiftly and quietly to the bottom of the stairs. The hallway was dark, filled with an air of despair he thought. He slowly made his way up the stair case. Pictures of all sorts lined the hallway on both sides as his fingers slowly took in the feel of the smooth banister.

The house was silent once he got to the top of the stairs. Berwald couldn't even hear the tv softly playing any longer. All the lights were turned off but a soft glow of moonlight from her bedroom window. Bel's door was open and there was just enough light to guide him to her.

Sweden wished he was seeing her in a different light, another circumstance perhaps. Unfortunately the events of the evening didn't pan out like anyone had planned. He needed her now more then ever. The reason he was so late and why he felt so guilty was because he had gone over to Tino's where things started to become fuzzy. The Swede was just relieved he was able to walk away this time.

Sweden felt like he was losing on both ends. Tino, not even a few hours ago, kissed him and confessed his love to him but in then end it was a drag out fight in which Berwald wasn't emotionally prepared for. The Swede stood in her doorway and watched her lay on her back, helpless, breathing shallow and slow. A cold pack, laid upon a wash cloth nestled over her eyes. Belgium's body was motionless except the rise and fall of her chest.

Her sun yellow comforter and white sheets, wrapped around her protectively. She was in a cocoon of warmth. He knew she must have been in a lot of pain. Just the look of Bel's purple, fat lip made him wince. Sweden really did his best to control his anger.

Sweden was feeling so messed up right now and the only person to ever give him any advice was her. Berwald wanted her to wake up and tell him she'd be fine. Even if it was a lie, he needed to hear it. "Ple'se be 'lright", he choked out in a whisper.

Berwald was on the verge of crying. It wasn't like him to do so, especially in situations like this but the man could only take so much heart ache. Sweden sniffled and felt tears run down his cheeks and fall to the floor from his chin.

His legs finally gave way as he dropped to his knees in her door way, his chest was tight, and his throat burned with the cries he was trying to contain but no longer could. The pale moon light shined directly on the woman he should have been there for, instead of out chasing ghosts.

Berwald started sobbing loudly, he quickly muffled it by bunching up his black t-shirt and shoving a portion into his mouth. The soft, damp cotton offered no comfort. He held himself as he leaned forward, placing his hot forehead on the cold wooden floor.

The stoic nation was broken. Sweden's cries became louder but then like an angel from heaven, the Swede almost missed her soft voice. "Berwald...?" He blinked his blue eyes repeatedly to clear them. Sweden choked down everything building up and slowly stood to his feet, adjusting his glasses as he went slightly slacked jaw. The female nation was waking up, he thought to himself. "Berwald, is that you...?"


	33. You're Lying

Belgium was slowly reaching for her eye pack when he darted across the room. "Bel, don't. Leave it th're, ple'se..." She tried to smile, her split lip caused a slight whimper. It's good she can't see him like this right now, Sweden thought. "Berwald...", her voice still a whisper. "What's wrong?..."

Belgium blindly started reaching out. Sweden lowered himself on the edge of her bed. The nation guided her hands to find his face. She touched his hot, damp skin of his cheeks. Her dirty, swollen fingers lightly caressed Sweden's nose and lips. He couldn't help but lightly smile as she bumped his glasses. "Oh, gosh... I'm sorry!" Her voice was a little clearer but she winced.

Her ribs were either bruised or broken because it hurt to breath. Bel pushed back the pain building in her shoulder and back. "You're very upset, tell me what happened." Belgium maintained her sweet tone, that he needed so desperately to hear.

Berwald's heavy, large hand cupped her bruised cheek. Angry, purple and red marks on her nose and lip, were evidence of her ordeal. It twisted his stomach to see her in such a state but he had to keep up the facade, it didn't bother him as much as it did.

She still tried to smile, no matter how bad it hurt. Sweden was clearly upset. Belgium didn't want it to be over her, and she had a sinking feeling it had something to do him being late for dinner. The woman, in her darkness, felt around the best she could. She even tried to sit up but a sharp pain in her belly and ribs prevented her from doing so.

"Don't w'rry Bel, I'm f'ne." "Geen. You're lying. I heard you crying Berwald." Her tone became very serious. Bel didn't like being lied too and Sweden was highly surprised at her change in demeanor. " 'lright", he sighed out with hesitation.

Sweden didn't know how all this was going to make her feel but he knew he needed to get it off his chest. With a heavy sigh, she lowered her arms next to her and listened. His heart was beating so hard, the Swede thought he was going to die, due to a heart attack.

Berwald began to tremble. Belgium's swollen fingers reached out for him. For some strange reason her, cool hand, battered as it was, was still comforting. The Swede slowed his breaths and begun with what happened.

"I st'ped by Tino's h'use c'use he 'sked me to." His blue eyes looked over to her beaten face that remained expressionless. Sweden couldn't tell what she was thinking underneath her icepack that covered her eyes, down to the point of her nose.

"I w'nted to t'lk to him 'bout P'ter und the f'ture. He was so n'ce wh'n I 'rrived. Tino s'rprised me w'th a l'ttle b'te to eat und c'nversation. He n'ver did dat b'fore. I tr'ed to expl'in I was h'ving d'nner w'th you und I c'uldn't st'y. He k'ssed me to g't me to st'y w'th him ton'ght."

Sweden felt the lowest of the low when he watched her swallow hard. Belgium's chin even quivered as her lips parted open slightly. The woman breathed through her mouth to keep from sobbing but it was extremely painful on her ribs. Though she really wanted to scream and yell at her ex-husband, she let him continue.

"I'm n't g'ing to lie. It f'lt gud to h've had him in my 'rms 'gain but I kn'w it was all a lie." Sweden began to sniffle, tears rolling down his cheeks like rain drops. "I c'nfronted him 'bout it. He bec'me ups't." Berwald covered his eyes and face with his left hand as she held his right hand, gently.

"He's 'lways l'ke dis wh'n Ryssland und he f'ght. He runs to me, exp'cting me to f'x it, den le'ves me fer 'nother pers'n." Sweden took in short breaths so he didn't sob to loudly. His shoulders bouncing while he sobbed. The male nation interlaced his fingers with hers and gently squeezed.

"Tino und Ryssland don't g't 'long at all. Dis is de main reas'n why, he's 'lways fergeting 'bout P'ter. Tino's b'sses are f'rcing him to d'velope rel'tions with Ryssland. In den end, we b'th 'greed P'ter will st'rt going b'ck to England ev'ry two w'eks 'nstead of seeing his m..m... m'ma."

Berwald felt like his world was collapsing around him. Belgium remained silent until he was able to get himself calmed down. He didn't want to tell his son, he wouldn't be seeing his mama any more. It killed him inside to think, Tino would give up so easily but the reality of it was, he did.

Sweden slowed his breath and once again used his damp shirt to wipe his face, never letting go of Belgium's hand. The woman wanted to help him. His turmoil was enough punishment. "I'll expect lots of poppies and cookies, plus you two to come over and visit." Sweden blinked at her, with confusion. His silence told her he wasn't quite up to what she was saying.

"I want compensation for watching Peter, so you don't have to leave him with Arthur. I know it's bad enough they don't get a long but I also know England's cooking is some of the worst. The poor boy would starve to death in two weeks and I can't have that." Sweden's heart started fluttering. She didn't hate him for kissing Tino, he felt some relief. He let out a deep sigh...


	34. I Never Stopped Loving You

"Look I've been watching out for you quite some time, I'm not going to stop now... You're one of my best friends Berwald..." Sweden cut her off by interrupting her. "I'm not Belgien und you kn'w it!" His voice a little stern. She swallowed hard again. "If I was such a g'od fr'end, den dat st'pid Spanien w'uldn't h've had the ch'nce to hit you", Sweden growled his promise through his teeth.

Belgium now figured out what the problem was. She thumbed the edge of his index finger. "Calm down. I'm fine." It was hard to lie to Sweden but she figured it would be worth the shot. "Nej Bel." He leans forward into her ear, careful not to put any weight on her.

Berwald placed a hand on the other side of her head, his weight baring down on it slightly. Bel felt trapped. She didn't know if she needed to worry or to feel safe. Sweden's breath could be felt on her ear lobe. It was warm and comforting.

Berwald let out a deep sigh as he whispered. "Don't lie to me Bel. I kn'w you w'nt to let go und cry. You w'nt it to be all 'ver. W'll now it is. I'll 'lways be h're fer you." Bel's mouth slightly fell open. Sweden knew her like a book, she thought as the cold wash cloth absorbed any tears threatening to spill.

Belgium sniffled. His words, rolling off his tongue like water. Sweden's accent was smooth and soothing. Belgium felt herself slowly letting go of all the pent up emotions. One tear after another, the female nation grabbed for him and began to sob loudly.

Even though it was painful for her to reach for him and be pulled up into his arms. She pushed it all aside, it was still wonderful to be held by someone who cared for you as much as you cared for them. "He'll nev'r h'rt you 'gain. I swe'r it." The last part of his sentence came out as a growl.

Finally Sweden's head was on straight, or so he figured. He wasn't chasing the maybe's any more. The man's wife who loved him, cared for him, and would do anything for his son was in his arms.

Sweden couldn't help himself, he kissed along her neck and gently pushed her hair back. His kisses trailed upward across her jaw line where he laid light pecks on her swollen, bruised lips. He loved her and now it was his turn to prove it.

"Jag älskar dig", he said loud enough for Italy and Germany who were now in the door way watching, to hear. "I love you too Berwald, she whispered. "I never stopped", she continued as the other two nations stared in disbelief. "Ne'ther did I."

Sweden had managed to pull her in a full hug were she reciprocated, her breathing slowed and he could hear stop crying. He was gently rubbed her back, careful when he, roamed over bruised spots. Berwald felt his world coming back together.

Italy and German left the two quietly alone to be together. Germany was happy to see Belgium in safe hands for once. It'll be nice to have some new neighbors the German thought as they two nations left together, holding each other in their arms and smiling. "See, some of the happiest endings, come from some of the greatest tragedies, vee!" The German chuckled. "I guess your right Italy."

What little did the German know...

_**Yes! There is one more chapter... and then story shall be finished... :D Hope you all enjoyed it so far! **_


End file.
